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DESERT GOLD 




























DESERT GOLD 

A ROMANCE OF THE BORDER 

BY 

ZANE GREY 

\\ 

AUTHOR OF 

RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE, 
WILDFIRE, Etc., Etc. 


ILLUSTRATED WITH 
SCENES FROM THE 
PHOTO PLAY PRODUCED 
BY ZANE GREY'S.OWN 
COMPANY 



GROSSET & DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS NEW YORK 


Published by Arrangement with Harper & Brother. 











COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY HARP^k A SROTHICtt 
t’RIWTEQ IN THE UNITED STATES OP AMKMCfi 
PUBLISHED APRIL.. 1918 

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CONTENTS 


CHAP. PAt,* 

Prologue .. i 

I. Old Friends ...... .23 

II. Mercedes Castaneda . e ..34 

III. A Flight into the Desert. 47 

IV. Forlorn River. 6J 

V. A Desert Rose.* • • 8i 

VI. The Yaqui. 9 ^ 

VII. White Horses.« • 1*4 

VIII. The Running of Blanco Sol 130 

IX. An Interrupted Siesta *45 

X. Rojas . . *53 

XI. Across Cactus and Lava .•••«»«*» *8o 

XII. The Crater of Hell 200 

XIII. Changes at Forlorn River ..«•«••• 224 

XIV. A Lost Son . .. 233 

XV. Bound in the Desert . . > * ® o » » 247 

XVI. Mountain Sheep. 263 

XVII. The Whistle of a Horse 28 2 

XVIIL Reality Against Dreams . 297 

XIX. The Secret of Forlorn River .• » 3*4 

XX. Desert Gold 






















DESERT GOLD 


PROLOGUE 

I 

A FACE haunted Cameron—a woman’s face. It was 
there in the white heart of the dying campfire; it 
hung in the shadows that hovered over the flickering light; 
it drifted in the darkness beyond. 

This hour, when the day had closed and the lonely 
desert night set in with its dead silence, was one in which 
Cameron’s mind was thronged with memories of a time 
long past—of a home back in Peoria, of a woman he had 
wronged and lost, and loved too late. He was a pros¬ 
pector for gold, a hunter of solitude, a lover of the drear, 
rock-ribbed infinitude, because he wanted to be alone to 
remember. 

A sound disturbed Cameron’s reflections. He bent his 
head, listening. A soft wind fanned the paling embers, 
blew sparks and white ashes and thin smoke away into 
the enshrouding circle of blackness. His burro did not 
appear to be moving about. The quiet split to the cry 
of a coyote. It rose strange, wild, mournful—not the 
howl of a prowling upland beast baying the campfire or 
barking at a lonely prospector, but the wail of a wolf, 
full-voiced, crying out the meaning of the desert and the 
night. Hunger throbbed in it—hunger for a mate, for 
offspring, for life. When it ceased, the terrible desert 

i 


DESERT GOLD 


silence smote Cameron, and the cry echoed in his soul. 
He and that wandering wolf were brothers. 

Then a sharp clink of metal on stone and soft pads of 
hoofs in sand prompted Cameron to reach for his gun, 
and to move out of the light of waning campfire. He was 
somewhere along the wild border line between Sonora and 
Arizona; and the prospector who dared the heat and 
barrenness of that region risked other dangers sometimes 
as menacing. 

Figures darker than the gloom approached and took 
shape, and in the light turned out to be those of a white 
man and a heavily packed burro. 

“Hello there,” the man called, as he came to a halt 
and gazed about him. “I saw your fire. May I make 
camp here?” 

Cameron came forth out of the shadow and greeted his 
visitor, whom he took for a prospector like himself. 
Cameron resented the breaking of his lonely campfire 
vigil, but he respected the law of the desert. 

The stranger thanked him, and then slipped the pack 
from his burro. Then he rolled out his pack and began 
preparations for a meal. His movements were slow and 
methodical. 

Cameron watched him, still with resentment, yet with 
a curious and growing interest. The campfire burst into 
a bright blaze, and by its light Cameron saw a man 
whose gray hair somehow did not seem to make him old, 
and whose stooped shoulders did not detract from an 
impression of rugged strength. 

“Find any mineral?” asked Cameron, presently. 

His visitor looked up quickly, as if startled by the 
sound of a human voice. He replied, and then the two 
men talked a little. But the stranger evidently preferred 
silence. Cameron understood that. He laughed grimly 
and bent a keener gaze upon the furrowed, shadowy face. 
Another of those strange desert prospectors in whom there 
was some relentless driving power besides the lust for 
2 


PROLOGUE 


gold! Cameron felt that between this man and himself 
there was a subtle affinity, vague and undefined, perhaps 
bom of the divination that here was a desert wanderer 
like himself, perhaps bom of a deeper, an unintelligible 
relation having its roots back in the past. A long- 
forgotten sensation stirred in Cameron’s breast, one so 
long forgotten that he could not recognize it. But it was 
akin to pain. 


II 

When he awakened he found, to his surprise, that 
his companion had departed. A trail in the sand led 
off to the north. There was no water in that direction. 
Cameron shrugged his shoulders; it was not his affair; 
he had his own problems. And straightway he forgot 
his strange visitor. 

Cameron began his day, grateful, for the solitude that 
was now unbroken, for the canon-furrowed and cactus- 
spired scene that now showed no sign of life. He traveled 
southwest, nevei> straying far from the dry stream bed; 
and in a desultory way, without eagerness, he hunted for 
signs of gold. 

The work was toilsome, yet the periods of rest in which 
he indulged were not taken because of fatigue. He 
rested to look, to listen, to feel. W T hat the vast silent 
world meant to him had always been a mystical thing, 
which he felt in all its incalculable power, but never 
understood. 

That day, while it was yet light, and he was digging in 
a moist white-bordered wash for water, he was brought 
sharply up by hearing the crack of hard hoofs on stone. 
There down the canon came a man and a burroCameron 
recognized them. 

, “Hello, friend,” called the man, halting. “Our trails 
crossed again. That’s good.” 

3 


DESERT GOLD 

# “Hello,” replied Cameron, slowly. “Any mineral 
sign to-day?” 

“No.” 

They made camp together, ate their frugal meal, 
smoked a pipe, and rolled in their blankets without ex¬ 
changing many words. In the morning the same reti¬ 
cence, the same aloofness characterized the manner of 
both. But Cameron’s companion, when he had packed 
his burro and was ready to start, faced about and said: 
“We might stay together, if it’s all right with you.” 

“I never take a partner,” replied Cameron. 

“You’re alone; I’m alone,” said the other, mildly. 
“It’s a big place. If we find gold there’ll be enough for 
two.” 

“I don’t go down into the desert for gold alone,” re¬ 
joined Cameron, with a chill note in his swift reply. 

. His companion’s deep-set, luminous eyes emitted a 
singular flash. It moved Cameron to say that in the 
years of his wandering he had met no man who could 
endure equally with him the blasting heat, the blinding 
dust storms, the wilderness of sand and rock and lava 
and cactus, the terrible silence and desolation of the 
desert. Cameron waved a hand toward the wide, shim¬ 
mering, shadowy descent of plain and range. “I may 
strike through the Sonora Desert. I may head for Pin- 
acate or north for the Colorado Basin. You are an old 
man.” 

“I don’t know the country, but to me one place is the 
same as another,” replied his companion. For moments 
he seemed to forget himself, and swept his far-reaching 
gaze out over the colored gulf of stone and sand. Then 
with gentle slaps he drove his burro in behind Cameron. 

Yes, I m old. I’m lonely, too. It’s come to me just 
lately. But, friend, I can still travel, and for a few days 
my company won’t hurt you.” 

“Have it your way,” said Cameron. 

They began a slow march down into the desert. At 


4 


PROLOGUE 


sunset they camped under the lee of a low mesa. Cam¬ 
eron was glad his comrade had the Indian habit of silence. 
Another day’s travel found the prospectors deep in the 
wilderness. Then there came a breaking of reserve, 
noticeable in the elder man, almost imperceptibly gradual 
in Cameron. Beside the meager mesquite campfire 
this gray-faced, thoughtful old prospector would remove 
his black pipe from his mouth to talk a little; and Cam¬ 
eron would listen, and sometimes unlock his lips to speak 
a word. And so, as Cameron began to respond, to the 
influence of a desert less lonely than habitual, he began 
to take keener note of his comrade, and found him differ¬ 
ent from any other he had ever encountered in the wil¬ 
derness. This man never grumbled at the heat, the glare, 
the driving sand, the sour water, the scant fare. During 
the daylight hours he was seldom idle. At night he sat 
dreaming before the fire or paced to and fro in the gloom. 
He slept but little, and that long after Cameron had had 
his own rest. He was tireless, patient, brooding. 

Cameron’s awakened interest brought home to him the 
realization that for years he had shunned companion¬ 
ship. In those years only three men had wandered into 
the desert with him, and these had left their bones to 
bleach in the shifting sands. Cameron had not cared to 
know their secrets. But the more he studied this latest 
comrade the more he began to suspect that he might have 
missed something in the others. In his own driving pas¬ 
sion to take his secret into the limitless abode of silence 
and desolation, where he could be alone with it, he had 
forgotten that life dealt shocks to other men. Somehow 
this silent comrade reminded him. 

One afternoon late, after they had toiled up a white, 
winding wash of sand and gravel, they came upon a dry 
waterhole. Cameron dug deep into the sand, but with¬ 
out avail. He was turning to retrace weary steps back 
to the last water when his comrade asked him to wait. 
Cameron watched him search in his pack and bring forth 

5 


DESERT GOLD 


what appeared to be a small, forked branch of a peach 
tree. He grasped the prongs of the fork and held them 
before him with the end standing straight out, and then 
he began to walk along the stream bed. Cameron, at 
first amused, then amazed, then pitying, and at last 
curious, kept pace with the prospector. He saw a strong 
tension of his comrade’s wrists, as if he was holding hard 
against a considerable force. The end of the peach 
branch began to quiver and turn. Cameron reached out 
a hand to touch it, and was Astounded at feeling a power¬ 
ful vibrant force pulling the branch downward. He felt 
it as a magnetic shock. The branch kept turning, and 
at length pointed to the ground. 

'‘Dig here,” said the prospector. 

“What!” ejaculated Cameron. Had the man lost his 
mind? 

Then Cameron stood by while his comrade dug in the 
sand. Three feet he dug—four—five, and the sand grew 
dark, then moist. At six feet water began to seep through. 

“Get the little basket in my pack,” he said. 

Cameron complied, and saw his comrade drop the 
basket into the deep hole, where it kept the sides from 
caving in and allowed the water to seep through. While 
Cameron watched, the basket filled. Of all the strange 
incidents of his desert career this was the strangest. 
Curiously he picked up the peach branch and held it as 
he had seen it held. The thing, however, was dead in 
his hands. 

“I see you haven’t got it,” remarked his comrade. 
'‘Few men have.” 

Got what?” demanded Cameron. 

“A power to find water that way. Back in Illinois an 
old German used to do that to locate wells. He showed 
me I had the same power. I can’t explain. But you 
needn t look so dumfounded. There’s nothing super¬ 
natural about it.” 

/ou mean it s a simple fact—that some men hav a 


PROLOGUE 


power to find water as you 


magnetism, a force or 
did?" 

. Ye „ ^ not . unusua l on the farms back in Illinois, 
Ohio, Pennsylvania. The old German I spoke of made 
money traveling round with his peach fork.” 

What a gift for a man in the desert!” 

Cameron’s comrade smiled—the second time in all those 
.days. 


They entered a region where mineral abounded, and 
tneir march became slower. Generally they took the 
course of a wash, one on each side, and let the burros 
travel leisurely along nipping at the bleached blades of 
scant grass, or at sage or cactus, while they searched in 
the canons and under the ledges for signs of gold. When 
they found any rock that hinted of gold they picked off a 
piece and gave it a chemical test. The search was fas¬ 
cinating. They interspersed the work with long, restful 
moments when they looked afar down the vast reaches 
and smoky shingles to the line of dim mountains. Some 
impelling desire, not all the lure of gold, took them to the 
top of mesas and escarpments; and here, when they had 
dug and picked, they rested and gazed out at the wide 
prospect. Then, as the sun lost its heat and sank lower- 
ing to dent its red disk behind far-distant spurs, they 
halted in a shady canon or likely spot in a dry wash and 
tried for water. When they found it they unpacked, gave 
drink to the tired burros, and turned them loose. Dead 
mesquite served for the campfire. While the strange twi¬ 
light deepened into weird night they sat propped against 
stones, with eyes on the dying embers of the fire, and soon 
they lay on the sand with the light of white stars on their 
dark faces. 


Each succeeding day and night Cameron felt himself 
more and more drawn to this strange man. He found 
that after hours of Jeuming toil he had insensibly grown 
nearer to his comrade. He reflected that after a few weeks 
in the desert he had always become a different man. In 
2 7 


DESERT GOLD 


civilization, in the rough mining camps, he had been a 
prey to unrest and gloom. But once down on the great 
billowing sweep of this lonely world, he could look into 
his unquiet soul without bitterness. Did not the desert 
magnify men? Cameron believed that wild men in wild 
places, fighting cold, heat, starvation, thirst, barrenness, 
facing the elements in all their ferocity, usually retro¬ 
graded, descended to the savage, lost all heart and soul 
and became mere brutes. Likewise he believed that men 
wandering or lost in the wilderness often reversed that 
brutal order of life and became noble, wonderful, super¬ 
human. So now he did not marvel at a slow stir stealing 
warmer along his veins, and at the premonition that per¬ 
haps he and this man, alone on the desert, driven there 
by life’s mysterious and remorseless motive, were to see 
each other through God’s eyes. 

His companion was one who thought of himself last. 
It humiliated Cameron that in spite of growing keenness 
he could not hinder him from doing more than an equal 
share of the day’s work. The man was mild, gentle, 
quiet, mostly silent, yet under all his softness he seemed 
to be made of the fiber of steel. Cameron could not 
thwart him. Moreover, he appeared to want to find gold 
for Cameron, not for himself. Cameron’s hands always 
trembled at the turning of rock that promised gold; he 
had enough of the prospector’s passion for fortune to 
thrill at the chance of a strike. But the other never 
showed the least trace of excitement. 

One night they were encamped at the head of a canon. 
The day had been exceedingly hot, and long after sundown 
the radiation of heat from the rocks persisted. A desert 
bird whistled a wild, melancholy note from a dark cliff, 
and a distant coyote wailed moumfolly. The stars shone 
white until the huge moon rose to burn out all their 
whiteness. And on this night Cameron watched his 
comrade, and yielded to interest he had not heretofore 
voiced. 


S 


PROLOGUE 

“Pardner, what drives you into the desert?” 

“Do I seem to be a driven man?” 

“Yes ” BUt • ^ ^ D ° y ° U C ° me tC> forget? ” 

“Ah!” softly exclaimed Cameron. Always he seemed 
to have known that. He said no more. He watched the 
old man nse and begin his nightly pace to and fro, up and 
down. With slow, soft tread, forward and back, tirelessly 
and ceaselessly, he paced that beat. He did not look up 
at the stars or follow the radiant track of the moon along 
the canon ramparts. He hung his head. He was lost 
m another world. It was a world which the lonely desert 
made real. He looked a dark, sad, plodding figure, and 
somehow impressed Cameron with the helplessness of men. 

Cameron grew acutely conscious of the pang in his own 
breast, of the fire in his heart, the strife and torment of his 
passion-driven soul. He had come into the desert to 
remember a woman. She appeared to him then as she 
had looked when first she entered his life—a golden-haired 
girl, blue-eyed, white-skinned, red-lipped, tall and slender 
and beautiful. He had never forgotten, and an old, sick¬ 
ening remorse knocked at his heart. He rose and climbed 
out of the canon and to the top of a mesa, where he paced 
to and fro and looked down into the weird and mystic 
shadows, like the darkness of his passion, and farther on 
down the moon track and the glittering stretches that 
vanished in the cold, blue horizon. The moon soared 
radiant and calm, the white stars shone serene. The 
vault of heaven seemed illimitable and divine. The desert 
surrounded him,silver-streaked and black-mantled,a chaos 
of rock and sand, silent, austere, ancient, always waiting. 

It spoke to Cameron. It was a naked corpse, but it had 
a soul. In that wild solitude the white stars looked down 
upon him pitilessly and pityingly. They had shone upon 
a desert that might once have been alive and was now dead, 
and might again throb with life, only to die. It 'was a 
terrible ordeal for him to stand there alone and realize 
9 


DESEFT GOLD 

that he was only a man facing eternity. But that was 
what gave him strength to endure. Somehow he was a 
part of it all, some atom in that vastness, somehow neces¬ 
sary to an inscrutable purpose, something indestructible 
in that desolate world of ruin and death and decay, some¬ 
thing perishable and changeable and growing under all 
the fixity of heaven. In that endless, silent hall of desert 
there was a spirit; and Cameron felt hovering near him 
what he imagined to be phantoms of peace. 

He returned to camp and sought his comrade. 

“I reckon we’re two of a kind,” he said. “It was a 
woman who drove me into the desert. But I come to 
remember. The desert’s the only place I can do that/’ 

“Was she your wife?” asked the elder man. 

“No.” 

A long silence ensued. A cool wind blew up the canon, 
sifting the sand through the dry sage, driving away the 
last of the lingering heat. The campfire wore down to a 
ruddy ashen heap. 

“I had a daughter,” said Cameron’s comrade. “She 
lost her mother at birth. And I—I didn’t know how to 
bring up a girl. She was pretty and gay. It was the— 
the old story.” 

His. words were peculiarly significant to Cameron. 
They distressed him. He had been wrapped up in his 
remorse. If ever in the past he had thought of any one 
connected with the girl he had wronged he had long for¬ 
gotten. But the consequences of such wrong were far- 
reaching. They struck at the roots of a home. Here in 
the desert he was confronted by the spectacle of a splendid 
man, a father, wasting his life because he could not forget— 
because there was nothing left to live for. Cameron under¬ 
stood better now why his comrade was drawn by the desert. 

“Well, tell me more?” asked Cameron, earnestly. 

“It was the old, old story. My girl was pretty and 
free. The young bucks ran after her. I guess she did 
not run away from them. And I was away a good deal- 

io 


PROLOGUE 


working in another town. She was in love with a wild 
fellow. I knew nothing of it till too late. He was en¬ 
gaged to marry her. But he didn’t come back. And 
when the disgrace became plain to all, my girl left home. 
She went West. After a while I heard from her. She 
was well—working—living for her baby. A long time 
passed. I had no ties. 1 drifted West. Her lover had 
also gone West. In those days everybody went West I 
trailed him, intending to kill him. But'I lost his trail 
Neither could I find any trace of her. She had moved 
on, driven, no doubt, by the hound of her past. Since 
taken to the wilds, hunting gold on the desert. ” 
Yes, it’s the old, old story, only sadder, I think,” said 
Cameron; and his voice was strained and unnatural. 

Pardner, what Illinois town was it you hailed from?” 

“Peoria.” 


“And your—your name?” went on Cameron, huskily. 

“Warren—Jonas Warren.” 

That name might as well have been a bullet. Cameron 
stood erect, motionless, as men sometimes stand mo- * 
mentanly when shot straight through the heart. In an 
instant, when thoughts resurged like blinding flashes oT 
lightning through his mind, he was a swaying, quiverings 
terror-stricken man. He mumbled something hoarsely 
and backed into the shadow. But he need not have feared 
discovery, however surely his agitation might have be¬ 
trayed him. Warren sat brooding over the campfire, 
oblivious of his comrade, absorbed in the past. 

Cameron swiftly walked away in the gloom, with the 
blood thrumming thick in his ears, whispering over and 
over: 


“Merciful God! Nell was his daughter!” 


Ill 

As thought and feeling multiplied, Cameron was over¬ 
whelmed, Beyond belief, indeed, was it that out of 
ri 


DESERT GOLD 


the millions of men in the world two who had never 
seen each other could have been driven into the desert 
by memory of the same woman. It brought the past so 
close. It showed Cameron how inevitably all his spiritual 
life was governed by what had happened long ago. That 
which made life significant to him was a wandering in 
silent places where no eye could see him with his secret. 
Some fateful chance had thrown him with the father of 
the girl he had wrecked. It was incomprehensible; it 
was terrible. It was the one tiling of all possible happen¬ 
ings in the world of chance that both father and lover 
would have found unendurable. 

Cameron’s pain reached to despair when he felt tills 
relation between Warren and himself. Something within 
him cried out to him to reveal his identity. Warren -would 
kill him; but it was not fear of death that put Cameron 
on the rack. He had faced death too often to be afraid. 
It was the thought of adding torture to this long-suffering 
man. All at once Cameron swore that he would not aug¬ 
ment Warren’s trouble, or let him stain his hands with 
blood. He would tell the truth of Nell’s sad story and 
his own, and make what amends he could. 

Then Cameron’s thought shifted from father to daugh¬ 
ter. She was somewhere beyond the dim horizon line. In 
those past lonely hours by the campfire his fancy had tor¬ 
tured him with pictures of Nell. But his remorseful and 
cruel fancy had lied to him. Nell had struggled upward 
out of menacing depths. She had reconstructed a broken 
life. And now she was fighting for the name and happi¬ 
ness of her child. Little Nell! Cameron experienced a 
shuddering ripple in all his being—the physical rack of an 
emotion bom of a new and strange consciousness. 

As Cameron gazed out over the blood-red, darkening 
desert suddenly the strife in his soul ceased. The moment 
was one of incalculable change, in which his eyes seemed 
to pierce the vastness of cloud and range, and mystery 
of gloom and shadow—to see with strong vision the 
ip 


PROLOGUE 

illimitable space before him. He felt the grandeur of the 
desert, its simplicity, its truth. He had learned at last 
the lesson it taught. No longer strange was his meeting 
and wandering with Warren. Each had marched in the 
steps of destiny; and as the lines of their fates had been 
inextricably tangled in the years that w r ere gone, so now 
their steps had crossed and turned them toward one com¬ 
mon goal. For years they had been two men marching 
alone, answering to an inward driving search, and the 
desert had brought them together. For years they had 
wandered alone in silence and solitude, where the sun 
burned white all day and the stars burned white all night, 
blindly following the whisper of a spirit. But now Cam¬ 
eron knew that he was no longer blind, and in this flash 
of revelation he felt that it had been given him to help 
Warren with his burden. 

He returned to camp trying to evolve a plan. As 
always at that long hour when the afterglow of sunset 
lingered in the west, Warren plodded to and fro in the 
gloom. All night Cameron lay awake thinking. 

In the morning, when Warren brought the burros to 
camp and began preparations for the usual packing, 
Cameron broke silence. 

“Pardner, your story last night made me think. I 
want to tell you something about myself. It’s hard 
enough to be driven by sorrow for some one you’ve loved, 
as you’ve been driven; but to suffer sleepless and eternal 
remorse for the ruin of one you’ve loved as I have suffered 
—that is hell. . . . Listen. In my younger days—it seems 
long now, yet it’s not so many years—I was wild. I 
wronged the sweetest and loveliest girl I ever knew. I 
went away not dreaming that any disgrace might come 
to her. Along about that time I fell into terrible moods, 
—I changed—I learned I really loved her. Then came a 
letter I should have gotten months before. It told of her 
trouble—importuned me to hurry to save her. Half 
frantic with shame and fear, I got a marriage certificate 


13 


DESERT GOLD 

and rushed back to her town. She was gone—had been 
gone for weeks, and her disgrace was known. Friends 
warned me to keep out of reach of her father. I trailed 
her—found her. I married her. But too late! . . . She 
would not live with me. She left me. I followed her 
west, but never found her.” 

Warren leaned forward a little and looked into 
Cameron's eyes, as if searching there for the repentance 
that might make him less deserving of a man's scorn. 

Cameron met the gaze unflinchingly, and again began 
to speak: 

“You know, of course, how men out here somehow lose 
old names, old identities. It won't surprise you much to 
leam my name really isn’t Cameron, as I once told you.” 

Warren stiffened upright. It seemed that there might 
have been a blank, a suspension, between his grave in¬ 
terest and some strange mood to come. 

Cameron felt his heart bulge and contract in his breast; 
all his body grew cold; and it took tremendous effort for 
him to make his lips form words. 

“Warren, I'm the man you’re hunting. I’m Burton. 
I was Nell’s lover!” 

The old man rose and towered over Cameron, and then 
plunged down upon him, and clutched at his throat with 
terrible stifling hands. The harsh contact, the paiu 
awakened Cameron to his peril before it was too late. 
Desperate fighting saved him from being hurled to the 
ground and stamped and crushed. Warren seemed a 
maddened giant. There was a reeling, swaying, wrest* 
ling struggle before the eider man began to weaken. 
Then Cameron, buffeted, bloody, half-stunned, panted 
for speech. 

“Warren—hold on! Give me—a minute. I married 
Nell. Didn’t you know that?... I saved the child!” 

Cameron felt the shock that vibrated through Warren. 
He repeated the words again and again. As if compelled 
by some resistless power, 'Warren released Cameron, and, 

14 


PROLOGUE 


staggering back, stood with uplifted, shaking hands, hi 
his face was a horrible darkness. 

“Warren! Wait—listen!” panted Cameron. “I’ve 
got that marriage certificate—I’ve had it by me all these 
years. I kept it—to prove to myself I did right/’ 

The old man uttered a broken cry. 

Cameron stole off among the rocks. How long he 
absented himself or what he did he had no idea. When 
he returned Warren was sitting before the campfire, and 
once more he appeared composed. He spoke, and his 
voice had a deeper note; but otherwise he seemed as 
usual. 

They packed the burros and faced the north together. 

Cameron experienced a singular exaltation. He had 
lightened his comrade’s burden. Wonderfully it came 
to him that he had also lightened his own. From that 
hour it was not torment to think of Nell. Walking with 
his comrade through the silent places, lying beside him 
under the serene luminous light of the stars, Cameron 
began to feel the haunting presence of invisible things 
that were real to him—phantoms whispering peace. In 
the moan of the cool wind, in the silken seep of sifting 
sand, in the distant rumble of a slipping ledge, in the 
faint rush of a shooting star he heard these phantoms of 
peace coming with whispers of the long pain of men at 
the last made endurable. Even in the white noonday, 
under the burning sun, these phantoms came to be real to 
him. In the dead silence of the midnight hours he heard 
them breathing nearer on the desert wind—nature’s voices 
of motherhood, whispers of God, peace in the solitude. 


IV 

There came a morning when the sun shone angry 
and red through a dull, smoky haze. 

“We’re in for sandstorms,” said Cameron 
i5 


DESERT GOLD 


They liad scarcely covered a mile when a desert-wide, 
moaning, yellow wall of flying sand swooped down upon 
them. Seeking shelter in the lee of a rock, they waited* 
hoping the storm was only a squall, such as frequently 
whipped across the open places. The moan increased to 
a roar, and the dull red slowly dimmed, to disappear in 
the yellow pall, and the air grew thick and dark. Warren 
slipped the packs from the burros, Cameron feared the 
sandstorms had arrived some weeks ahead of their usual 
season. 

The men covered their heads and patiently waited,. 
The long hours dragged, and the storm increased in fury, 
Cameron and Warren wet scarfs with water from their 
canteens, and bound them round their faces, and then 
covered their heads. The steady, hollow bellow of flying 
sand went on. It flew so thickly that enough sifted down 
under the shelving rock to weight the blankets and al¬ 
most bury the men. They were frequently compelled 
to shake off the sand to keep from being borne to the 
ground. And it was necessary to keep digging out the 
packs. The floor of their shelter gradually rose higher 
and higher. They tried to eat, and seemed to be grinding 
only sand between their teeth. They lost the count of 
time. They dared not sleep, for that would have meant 
being buried alive. They could only crouch close to the 
leaning rock, shake off the sand, blindly dig out their 
packs, and every moment gasp and cough and choke to 
fight suffocation. 

The storm finally blew itself out. It left the prospect* 
ors heavy and stupid for want of sleep. Their burros 
had wandered away, or had been buried in the sand,. 
Far as eye could reach the desert had marvelously 
changed: it was now a rippling sea of sand dunes. Away 
to the north rose the peak that was their only guiding 
mark. They headed toward it, carrying a shovel and 
part of their packs. 

At noon the neak vanished in the shimmering glare ot 
r6 


PROLOGUE 

the desert. The prospectors pushed on, guided by the 
sun. In every wash they tried for water. With the 
forked peach branch in his hands Warren always suc¬ 
ceeded in locating water. They dug, but it lay too deep 
At length, spent and sore, they fell and slept through 
that night and part of the next day. Then they succeeded 
in getting water, and quenched their thirst, and filled the 
canteens, and cooked a meal. 

The burning day found them in an interminably wide 
plain, where there was no shelter from the fierce sun. 
The men were exceedingly careful with their water, 
though there was absolute necessity of drinking a little 
every hour. Late in the afternoon they came to a canon 
that they believed was the lower end of the one in which 
tney had last found water. For hours they traveled 
toward its head, and, long after night had set, found what 
they sought. Yielding to exhaustion, they slept, and next 
day were loath to leave the waterhole. Cool night spurred 
them on with canteens full and renewed strength. 

Morning told Cameron that they had turned back miles 
into the desert, and it was desert new to him. The red 
sun, the increasing heat, and especially the variety and 
large size of the cactus plants warned Cameron that he 
had descended to a lower level. Mountain peaks loomed 
on all sides, some near, others distant; and one, a blue 
spur, splitting the glaring sky far to the north, Cameron 
thought he recognized as a landmark. The ascent toward 
it was heartbreaking, not in steepness, but in its league- 
and-league-long monotonous rise. Cameron knew there 
was only one hope—to make the water hold out and never 
stop to rest. Warren began to weaken. Often he had to 
halt. The burning white day passed, and likewise the 
night, with its white stars shining so pitilessly cold and 
bright. 

Cameron measured the water in his canteen by its 
weight. Lvaporation by heat consumed as much as lie 
drank. During one of the rests, when he had wetted his 
17 


DESERT GOLD 

parched mouth and throat, he found opportunity to pour 
a little water from his canteen into Warren's, 

At first Cameron had curbed his restless activity to 
accommodate the pace of his elder comrade But now he 
felt that he was losing something of his instinctive and 
passionate zeal to get out of the desert. The thought of 
water came to occupy his mind. He began to imagine 
that his last little store of water did not appreciably 
diminish. He knew he was no t quite right in his mind 
regarding water; nevertheless, he felt this to be more of 
fact than fancy, and he began to ponder. 

When next they rested he pretended to be in a kind 
of stupor; but he covertly watched Warrem The man 
appeared far gone, yet he had cunning. He cautiously 
took up Cameron's canteen and poured water into it 
from liis own. 

This troubled Cameron. The old irritation at not being 
able to thwart Warren returned to him, Cameron re¬ 
flected, and concluded that he had been unwise not to 
expect this very thing. Then, as his comrade dropped 
into weary rest, he lifted both canteens. If there were 
any water in Warren's, it was only very little Both men 
had been enduring the terrible desert thirst, concealing it, 
each giving hi.s water to the other, and the sacrifice had 
been useless. 

Instead of ministering to the parched throats of one or 
both, the water had evaporated. When Cameron made 
sure of this, he took one more drink, the last, and poured 
the little water left into Warren’s canteen. He threw his 
own away. / i 

Soon afterward Warren discovered the loss, 

“Where’s your canteen?” he asked. 

“The heat was getting my water, so I draok what was 
left.” 

“My son!” said Warren. 

The day opened for them in a red and green hell of rock 
and cactus. Like a flame the sun scorched and peeled 

x.8 


PROLOGUE 


tisesr faces. Warren went blind from the glare, and 
-ameron had to lead him. At last Warren plunged down 
exhausted, in the shade of a ledge. 

Cameron rested and waited, hopeless, with hot, weary 
eyes gazing down from the height where he sat. The 
ledge was the top step of a ragged gigantic stairway, 
Below stretched a sad, austere, and lonely valley. A dim 
wide streak, lighter than the bordering gray, wound down 
the valley floor. Once a river had flowed there, leaving 
only a forlorn trace down the winding floor of this forlorn 
valley. 


Movement on the part of Warren attracted Cameron’s 
attention. Evidently the old prospector had recovered 
tus sight and some of his strength. For he had arisen, 
and now began to walk along the arroyo bed with his 
Storked peach branch held before him. He had clung to 
that precious bit of wood. Cameron considered the pros¬ 
pect for wafer hopeless, because he saw that the arroyo 
had once been a canon, and had been filled with sands by 
desert winds. . Warren, however, stopped in a deep pit, 
and, cutting his canteen in half, began to use one side of 
It a: a scoop. lie scooped out a wide hollow, so wide that 
Cameron was certain he had gone crazy. Cameron gently 
urged him to stop, and then forcibly tried to make him. 
But these efforts were futile. Warren worked with slow, 
ceaseless, methodical movement. He toiled for what 
seemed hours. Cameron, seeing the darkening, damp¬ 
ening sand, realized a wonderful possibility of water, and 
he plunged into the pit with the other half of the canteen. 
Then both men toiled, round and round the wide hole, 
down deeper and deeper. The sand grew moist, then wet. 
Au the bottom of the deep pit the sand coarsened, gave 
place to gravel. Finally water welled in, a stronger vol¬ 
ume than Cameron ever remembered finding on the 
Cesert. It would soon fill the hole arid run over. He 
marveled at the circumstance. The time was near the 
end of the dry season. Perhaps an underground stream 


*9 


DESERT GOLD 


flowed from the range behind down to the valley floor 
and at this point came near to the surface, Cameron 
had heard of such desert miracles. 

The finding of water revived Cameron's flagging^ hopes, 
But they were short-lived. Warren had spent mmself 
utterly. 

“I’m done. Don't linger,” he whispered “My son, 
go—go!” 

Then he fell. Cameron dragged him out of the sand 
pit to a sheltered place under the ledge. While sitting 
beside the failing man Cameron discovered painted images 
on the wall. Often in the desert he had found these evi¬ 
dences of a prehistoric people. Then, from long haoit* 
he picked up a piece of rock and examined it. Its weight 
made him closely scrutinize it. The color was a peculiar 
black. He scraped through the black rust to find a piece 
of gold. Around him lay scattered heaps of black pe!> 
bles and bits of black, weathered rock and pieces oi 
broken ledge, and they showed gold. 

“Warren! Book! See it! Feel it! Gold! 

But Warren had never cared, and now he was too blind 


to see. 

“Go—go!” he whispered. 

Cameron gazed down the gray reaches of that forlorn 
valley, and something within him that was neither in¬ 
telligence nor emotion—something inscrutably strange— 
impelled him to promise. 

Then Cameron built up stone monuments to mark Im 
gold strike. That done, he tarried beside the uncon¬ 
scious Warren. Moments passed—grew’ into hours 
Cameron still had strength left to make an effort to get 
out of the desert. But that same inscrutable something 
which had ordered his strange involuntary promise to 
Warren held him beside his fallen comrade He watched 
the white sun turn to gold,and then to red,and sink behind 
mountains in the west. Twilight stole into the arroyo. 
It lingered, slowly turning to gloom. The vault of blue- 
ao 


PROLOGUE 

black lightened to the blinking of stars. Then fell the 
serene, silent, luminous desert night. 

. Cameron Kept his vigil. As the long hours wore on he 
felt creep over him the comforting sense that he need not 
forever fight sleep. A wan glow flared behind the dark, 
uneven horizon, and a melancholy misshapen moon rose 
to make the white night one of shadows. Absolute si¬ 
lence claimed the desert. It was mute. Then that in¬ 
scrutable something breathed to him, telling him when 
he was alone. He need not have looked at the dark, still 
face beside him. 

Another face harm ted Cameron’s—a woman’s face. 
It was there in the white moonlit shadows; it drifted in 
the darkness beyond; it softened, changed to that of a 
young girl, sweet, with the same dark, haunting eyes of 
her pother. Cameron prayed to that nameless thing 
within him, the spirit of something deep and mystical as 
life. He prayed to that nameless thing outside, of which 
the rocks and the sand, the spiked cactus and the ragged 
lava, the endless waste, with its vast star-fired mantle, 
were but atoms. He prayed for mercy to a woman—for 
happiness to her child. Both mother and daughter were 
close to him then. Time and distance were annihilated. 
He had faith—he saw into the future. The fateful threads 
of the past, so inextricably woven with his error, wound 
out their tragic length here in this forlorn desert. 

Cameron then took a little tin box from his pocket, 
and, opening it, removed a folded certificate. He had 
kept a pen, and now he wrote something upon the paper, 
and in lieu of ink he wrote with blood. The moon 
afforded him enough light to see; and, having re¬ 
placed the paper, he laid the little box upon a shelf of 
rock. It would remain there unaffected by dust, moist¬ 
ure, heat, time. How long had those painted images been 
there clear and sharp on the diy stone walls? There were 
no trails in that desert, and always there were incalculable 
diangeso Cameron saw this mutable mood of nature— 
,22, 


DESERT GOLD 

the sands would fly and seep and carve and bury; the 
floods would dig and cut; the ledges would weather in the 
heat and rain; the avalanches would slide; the cactus 
seeds would roll in the wind to catch in a niche and split 
the soil with thirsty roots. Years would pass. Cameron 
seemed to see them, too; and likewise destiny leading a 
child down into this forlorn waste, where she would find 
love and fortune, and the grave of her father.^ 

Cameron covered the dark, still face of his comrade 
from the light of the waning moon. 

That action was the severing of his hold on realities. 
They fell away from him in final separation. Vaguely, 
dreamily he seemed to behold his soul. Night merged 
into gray day; and night came again, weird and dark. 
Then up out of the vast void of the desert, from the si¬ 
lence and illimitableness, trooped his phantoms of peace. 
Majestically they formed around him, marshaling and 
mustering in ceremonious state, and moved to lay upon 
him their passionless serenity. 


52 


IS¬ 


OLD FRIENDS 

R xoIiARD ^ GALE reflected that his sojourn in the 
West had been what his disgusted father had pre¬ 
dicted—idling here and dreaming there, with no objective 
point or purpose. 

It was reflection such as this, only more serious and 
perhaps somewhat desperate, that had brought Gale 
down to the border. For some time the newspapers had 
been printing news of Mexican revolution, guerrilla war¬ 
fare, United States cavalry patrolling the international 
Ime, American cowboys fighting with the rebels, and wild 
stones of bold raiders and bandits. Regarding these 
rumors -rale was skeptical. But as opportunity, and ad¬ 
venture, too, had apparently given him a wide berth in 
Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, he had struck southwest 
tor the Arizona border, where he hoped to see some 
stirring life. He did not care very much what happened. 
Months of futile wandering in the hope of finding a place 
where he fitted had inclined Richard to his father’s 
opinion. 

It was after dark one evening in early October when 
Richard arrived in Casita. He was surprised to find that 
it was evidently a town of importance. There was a 
jostling, jab Dering, sombreroed crowd of Mexicans around 
the railroad station. He felt as if he were in a foreign 
country. After a while he saw several men of his nation¬ 
ality one of whom he engaged to carry his luggage to a 
aotel. They walked up a wide, well-lighted street lined 
Vith buildings in which were bright windows. Of the 
3 . 2 3 


DESERT GOLD 

many people encountered by Gale most were Mexicans. 
His guide explained that the smaller half of Casita lay 
in Arizona, the other half in Mexico, and of several thou¬ 
sand inhabitants the majority belonged on the southern 
side of the street, which was the boundary line. He also 
said that rebels had entered the town that day, causing 
a good deal of excitement. 

Gale was almost at the end of his financial resources, 
which fact occasioned him to turn away from a pretentious 
hotel and to ask his guide for a cheaper lodging-house. 
When this was found, a sight of the loungers in the 
office, and also a desire for comfort, persuaded Gale to 
change his traveling-clothes for rough outing garb and 
boots. 

“Well, I’m almost broke,” he soEloquized, thoughtfully. 
“The governor said I wouldn’t make any money. He’s 
right—so far And he said I’d be coming home beaten. 
There he's wrong, I’ve got a hunch that something ’ll 
happen to me in this Greaser town.” 

He went out into a wide, whitewashed, high-ceiled 
corridor, and from that into an immense room which, 
but for pool tables, bar, and benches, would have been like 
a courtyard. The floor was cobblestoned, the walls were 
of adobe, and the large windows opened Like doors. A 
blue cloud of smoke filled the place. Gale heard the click 
of pool balls and the clink of glasses along the crowded 
bar. Bare-legged, san dai-footed Mexicans in white rubbed 
shoulders with Mexicans mantled in black and red. 
There were others in tight-fitting blue uniforms with gold 
fringe or tassels at the shoulders. These men wore belts 
with heavy, bone-handled guns, and evidently were the 
rurales, or native policemen. There were black-bearded, 
coarse-visaged Americans, some gambling round the little 
tables, others drinking. The pool tables were the center 
of a noisy crowd of younger men, several of whom were 
unsteady on their feet. There were khaki-clad cavalry¬ 
men strutting in and out. 


24 


OLD FRIENDS 


At one end of the room, somewhat apart from the gen¬ 
eral melee, was a group of six men round a little table, 
lour of whom were seated, the other two standing. These 
last two drew a second glance from Gale. The sharp- 
featured, bronzed faces and piercing eyes, the tall, slender, 
loosely jointed bodies, the quiet, easy, reckless air that 
seemed to be a part of the men—these things would plain¬ 
ly have stamped them as cowboj^s without the buckled 
sombreros, the colored scarfs, the high-topped, high- 
heeled boots with great silver-roweled spurs. Gale did 
not fail to note, also, that these cowboys wore guns, and 
this fact was rather a shock to his idea of the modern 
West. It caused him to give some credence to the rumors 
of fighting along the border, and he felt a thrill. 

He satisfied his hunger in a restaurant adjoining, and 
as he stepped back into the saloon a man wearing a mili¬ 
tary cape jostled him. Apologies from both were instant. 
Gale was moving on when the other stopped short as if 
startled, and, leaning forward, exclaimed: 

“Dick Gale?” 

“You’ve got me,” replied Gale, in surprise. “But I 
don’t know you.” 

He could not see the stranger’s face, because it was 
wholly shaded by a wide-brimmed fiat pulled well down. 

“By Jove! It’s Dick! If this isn’t great! Don’t 
(ou know me?” 

“I’ve heard your voice somewhere,” replied Gale. 
“Maybe Til recognize you if you come out from under 
that "bonnet.” 

For answer the man, suddenly manifesting thought of 
himself, hurriedly drew Gale into the restaurant, where 
he thrust back his hat to disclose a handsome, sun¬ 
burned face. 

“George Thome! So help me—” 

“ ’S-s-ssh. You needn’t yell,” interrupted the other, 
as he met Gale’s outstretched hand. There was a close, 
hard, straining grip. “I must not be recognized here. 

2S 


DESERT GOLD 

There are reasons. I'll explain in a minute. Say, but 
st’s fine to see you! Five years, Dick, five years since I 
saw you run down University Field and spread-eagle the 
whole Wisconsin football team.” 

1 44 Don't recollect that,” replied Dick, laughing. “George, 
111 bet you Fm gladder to see you than you are to see mo 
It seems so long. You went into the army, didn't you?” 

“X did. I’m here now with the Ninth Cavalry. But 

never mind me. What Ye you doing way down here? 
Say, X just noticed your togs. Dick, you" can't be go¬ 
ing in for mining or ranching, not in this God-forsaken, 
desert?” 

“On the square, George, I don't know any more why 
I'm here than—than you know.” 

Well, that beats me!” ejaculated Thorne, sitting back 
in his chair, amaze and concern in his expression. '“What 
the devil’s wrong ? Your old man's got too much money 
for you ever to be up against it. Dick, you couldn't have 
gone to the bad?” 

A tide of emotion surged over Gale. How good it was 
to meet a friend-some one to whom to talk? He had 
never appreciated his kindliness until that moment. 

“George, how I ever drifted down here I don't know. 

I didn't exactly quarrel with the governor. But—damn 
it. Dad hurt me—shamed me, and I dug out for the 
W est. It was this way. After leaving college I tried to 
please him by tackling one thing after another that he set 
me to do. On the square, I had no head for business. 

I made a mess of everything. The governor got sore. 
He kept ramming the harpoon into me till I just couldn't 
stand it. What little ability I possessed deserted me 
when I got my back up, and there you are. Dad and I 
had a rather uncomfortable half hour. When I quit— 
when I told him straight out that I was going West to 
fare for myself, why, it wouldn’t have been so tough if 
he hadn't laughed at me. He called me a rich man's 
*5on—an idle, easy-going, spineless swell. He said I didn't 

26 

s 

\ 


OLD FRIENDS 


even have character enough to be out and out bad. He 
said I didn’t have sense enough to marry one of the nice 
girls in my sister’s crowd. He said I couldn’t earn a dol¬ 
lar—that I’d starve out West, and couldn’t get back home 
unless I sent to him for money. He said he didn’t believe 
I could fight—could really make a fight for anything under 
the sun. Oh—he—he shot it into me, all right.” 

Dick dropped his head upon his hands, somewhat 
ashamed of the smarting dimness in his eyes. He had not 
meant to say so much. Yet what a relief to let out that 
long-congested burden! 

“Fight!” cried Thome, hotly. “What’s ailing him? 
Didn’t they call you Biff Gale in college? Dick, you 
were one of the best men Stagg ever developed. I heard 
him say so—that you were the fastest one-hundred-and- 
seventy-five-pound man he’d ever trained, the hardest to 
stop.” 

“The governor didn’t count football.,” said Dick. “He 
didn’t mean that kind of a fight. When I left home I 
don’t think I had an idea what was wrong with me. But, 
George, I tliink I know now. I was a rich man’s son— 
spoiled, dependent, absolutely ignorant of the value of 
money. I haven’t yet discovered any earning capacity 
in me. I seem to be unable to do anything with my 
hands. That’s the trouble. But I’m at the end of my 
tether now. And I’m going to punch cattle or be a miner, 
or do some real stunt—like joining the rebels.” 

% “Aha! 1 thought you’d spring that last one on me,” 
declared Thome, wagging his head. “Well, you just for¬ 
get it. Say, old boy, there’s something doing in Mexico. 
The Uniced States in general doesn’t realize it. But 
across that line there are crazy revolutionists, ill-paid 
soldiers, guerrilla leaders, raiders, robbers, outlaws, ban¬ 
dits galore, starving peons by the thousand, girls and 
women in terror. Mexico is like some of her volcanoes 
—ready to erupt fire and hell! Don’t make the awful 
mistake of joining the rebel forces. Americans are hated 
27 


DESERT GOLD 


by Mexicans of the lower class—the fighting class, both 
rebel and federal. Half the time these crazy Greasers are 
on one side, then on the other. If you didn’t starve or 
get shot in ambush, or die of thirst, some Greaser would 
knife you in the back for your belt buckle or boots. There 
are a good many Americans with the rebels eastward 
toward Agua Prieta and Juarez. Orozco is operating in 
Chihuahua, and I guess he has some idea of warfare. 
But this is Sonora, a mountainous desert, the home of the 
slave and the Yaqui. There’s unorganized revolt every¬ 
where. The American miners and ranchers, those who 
could get away, have fled across into the States, leaving 
property. Those who couldn’t or wouldn’t come must 
fight for their lives, are fighting now.” 

“That’s bad,” said Gale. “It’s news to me. Why 
doesn’t the government take action, do something?” ~ 

“Afraid of international complications. Don’t want 
to offend the Maderists, or be criticized by jealous for¬ 
eign nations. It’s a delicate situation, Dick. The 
Washington officials know the gravity of it, you can bet. 
But the United States in general is in the dark, and the 
army—well, you ought to hear the inside talk back at 
San Antonio. We’re patrolling the boundary line. We’re 
making a grand bluff. I could tell you of a dozen instances 
where cavalry should have pursued raiders on the other 
side of the line. But we won’t do it. The officers are a 
grouchy lot these days. You see, of course, what sig¬ 
nificance would attach to United States cavalry going 
into Mexican territory. There would simply be helL 
My own colonel is the sorest man on the job. ’ Were all 
sore. It’s like sitting on a powder magazine. We can’t 
keep the rebels and raiders from crossing the line. Yet 
we don t fight. My commission expires soon. I’ll be 
discharged in three months. You can bet I’m glad for 
more reasons than I’ve mentioned.” 

Thorne was evidently laboring under strong, suppressed 
excitement. His face showed pale under the tan, and his 


OLD FRIENDS 


syes gleamed with a dark fire. Occasionally his delight 
at meeting, talking with Gale, dominated the other emo¬ 
tions, but not for long. He had seated himself at a table 
near one of the doorlike windows leading into the street, 
and every little while he would glance sharply out. Also 
he kept consulting his watch. 

These details gradually grew upon Gale as Thome talkgd. 

“George, it strikes me that you!re upset,” said Dick, 
presently. “I seem to remember you as a cool-headed 
fellow whom nothing could disturb. Has the army 
changed you?” 

Thome laughed. It was a laugh with a strange, high 
note. It was reckless—it hinted of exaltation. He rose 
abruptly; he gave the waiter money to go for drinks; he 
looked into the saloon, and then into the street. On this 
side of the house there was a porch opening on a plaza 
with trees and shrubbery and branches. Thome peered 
out one window, then another. His actions were rapid. 
Returning to the table, he put his hands upon it and 
leaned over to look closely into Gale’s face. 

“I’m away from camp without leave,” he said. 

“Isn’t that a serious offense?” asked Dick. 

“Serious? For me, if I’m discovered, it means ruin. 
There are rebels in town. Any moment we might have 
trouble. I ought to be ready for duty—within call. If 
I’m discovered it means arrest. That means^delay the 
failure of my plans—ruin.” 

Gale was silenced by his friend’s intensity. Thome 
bent over closer with his dark eyes searchingly bright. 

“We were old pals—once?” 

“Surely,” replied Dick. 

“What would you say, Dick Gale, if I told you that 
you’re the one man I’d rather have had come along than 
any other at this crisis of my life?” 

The earnest gaze, the passionate voice with its deep 
tremor drew Dick upright, thrilling and eager, conscious 
of strange, unfamiliar impetuosity. 

29 


DESERT GOLD 


Thorne, I should say I was glad to be the fellow, 5 ’ re¬ 
plied Dick. 

Their hands locked for a moment, and they sat down 
again with heads close over the table. 

“Listen,” began Thome, in low, swift whisper, “a few 
days, a week ago—it seems like a year!—I was of some 
assistance to refugees fleeing from Mexico into the States. 
They were all women, and one of them was dressed as a 
nun. Quite by accident I saw her face. It was that of 
a beautiful girl. I observed she kept aloof from the 
others. I suspected a disguise, and, when opportunity 
afforded, spoke to her, offered my services. She replied 
to my poor efforts at Spanish in fluent English. She had 
fled in terror from her home, some place down in Sinaloa. 
Rebels are active there. Her father was captured and 
held for ransom. When the ransom was paid the rebels 
killed him. The leader of these rebels was a bandit named 
Rojas. Long before the revolution began he had been 
feared by people of class—loved by the peons. Bandits 
are worshiped by the peons. All of the famous bandits 
have cobbed the rich and given to the poor. Rojas saw 
the daughter, made off with her. But she contrived to 
bribe her guards, and escaped almost immediately before 
any harm befell her. She hid among friends. Rojas 
nearly tore down the town in his efforts to find her. Then 
she disguised herself, and traveled by horseback, stage, 
and train to Casita. 

Her story fascinated me, and that one fleeting glimpse 
I had of her face I couldn’t forget. She had no friends 
here, no money. She knew Rojas was trailing her. This 
talk I had with her was at the railroad station, where 
all was bustle and confusion. No one noticed us, so I 
thought. 1 advised her to remove the disguise of a nun 
before ^she left the waiting-room. And I got a boy to 
guide her. But he fetched her to this house. I had 
promised to come in the evening to talk over the situation 
^th her. 



OLD FRIENDS 


‘‘I found her, Dick, and when I saw her—I went stark, 
staring, raving mad over her. She is the most beautiful, 
wonderful girl I ever saw. Her name is Mercedes Casta¬ 
neda, and she belongs to one of the old wealthy Spanish 
families. She has lived abroad and in Havana. She 
speaks French as well as English. She is—but I must be 
brief. 

“Dick, think, think! With Mercedes also it was love 
at first sight. My plan is to marry her and get her farther 
to the interior, away from the border. It may not be 
easy. She’s watched. So am I. It was impossible to 
see her without the women of this house knowing. At 
first, perhaps, they had only curiosity—an itch to gossip. 
But the last two days there has been a change. Since 
last night there’s some powerful influence at work. Oh, 
these Mexicans are subtle, mysterious! After all, they are 
Spaniards. They work in secret, in the dark. They are 
dominated first by religion, then by gold, then by passion 
for a woman. Rojas must have got word to his friends 
here; yesterday his gang of cutthroat rebels arrived, and 
to-day he came. When I learned that, I took my chance 
and left camp; I hunted up a priest. He promised to 
come here. It’s time he’s due. But I’m afraid he’ll be 
stopped. 11 

“Thome, why don’t you take the girl and get married 
without waiting, without running these risks?” said Dick. 

“ I fear it’s too late now. I should have done that last 
night. You see, we’re over the line—” 

“Are we in Mexican territory now?” queried Gale, 
sharply. 

“I guess yes, old boy. That’s what complicates it. 
Rojas and his rebels have Casita in their hands. But 
Rojas without his rebels would be able to stop me, get 
the girl, and make for his mountain haunts. If Mercedes 
is really watched—-if her identity is known, which I am 
sure is the case—we couldn’t get far from this house before 
I’d be knifed and she seized.” 

M . 


DESERT GOLD 

%»- 

“‘Good Heavens! Thome, can tliat sort of thing hap® 
pen less than a stone’s throw from the United States 
line?” asked Gale, incredulously. 

‘‘It can happen, and don’t you forget it. You don’t 
seem to realize the power these guerrilla leaders, these 
rebel captains, and particularly these bandits, exercise 
over the mass of Mexicans. A bandit is a man of honor 
in Mexico. He is feared, envied, loved. In the hearts 
of the people he stands next to the national idol—the 
bull-fighter,. the matador. The race has a wild, barbarian, 
bloody strain. Take Quinteros, for instance. He was a 
peon, a slave. He became a famous bandit. At the out¬ 
break of the revolution he proclaimed himself a leader, 
and with a band of followers he devastated whole counties. 
The opposition to federal forces was only a blind to rob 
and riot and carry off women. The motto of this man 
and his followers was: ‘Let us enjoy ourselves while 
we may!’ 

There are other bandits besides Quinteros, not so 
famous or such great leaders, but just as bloodthirsty. 
I’ve seen Rojas. He’s a handsome, bold, sneering devil, 
vainer than any peacock. He decks himself in gold lace 
and silver trappings, in all the finery he can steal. He 
was one of the rebels who helped sack Sinaloa and carry 
off half a miHion in money and valuables. Rojas spends 
gold like he spins blood. But he is chiefly famous for 
abducting women. . The peon girls consider it an honor 
to be ridden off with. Rojas has shown a penchant for 
girls of the better class.” 

Thome wiped the perspiration from his pale face and 
bent a dark gaze out of the window before he resumed his 
talk. 

“ Consider what the position of Mercedes really is. I 
can’t get any help from our side of the line. If so, I don't 
know where. The population on that side is mostly 
Mexican, absolutely in sympathy with whatever actuates 
those on this side. The whole caboodle of Greasers on 
32 


OLD FRIENDS 

both sides belong to the class in sympathy with the rebels, 
the class that secretly respects men like Rojas, and hates 
an aristocrat- like Mercedes. They would conspire to 
throw her into his power. Rojas can turn all the hidden 
underground influences to his ends. Unless I thwart him 
he 11 get iV.i ercedes as easily as he can light a cigarette. 
But I’ll kill him or some of his gang or her before I let 
him get her, . . . This is the situation, old friend. I’ve 
little time to spare. I face arrest for desertion. Rojas is 
in town. I think I was followed to this hotel. The priest 
has betrayed me or has been stopped. Mercedes is here 
alone, waiting, absolutely dependent upon me to save ' 
her from—from. . . . She’s the sweetest, loveliest girl!. . . 

In a few moments—sooner or later there’ll be hell herein 
Dick, are you with me?” 

Dick Gale drew a long, deep breath. A coldness, a 
lethargy, an indifference that had weighed upon him for 
months had passed out of his being. On the instant he 
could not speak, but his hand closed powerfully upon his 
friend’s, Thome’s face changed wonderfully, the dis¬ 
tress, the fear, the appeal all vanishing in a smile of 
passionate gratefulness. 

Then Dick's gaze, attracted by some slight sound, shot 
over his friend’s shoulder to see a face at the window—a 
oandsome, bold, sneering face, with glittering dark eyes 
that flashed in sinister intentness, 

Dick stiffened in his seat. Thome, with sudden 
clenching of hands, wheeled toward the window, 

“RojaSi” he whispered. 


H 


MERCEDES CASTANEDA 


HE dark face vanished. Dick Gale heard footsteps 



and the tinkle of spurs. He strode to the window. 


and was in time to see a Mexican swagger into the front 
door of the saloon. Dick had only a glimpse; but in 
that he saw a huge black sombrero with a gaudy band, 
the back of a short, tight-fitting jacket, a heavy pearl- 
handled gun swinging with a fringe of sash, and close* 
fitting trousers spreading wide at the bottom. There 
were men passing in the street, also several Mexicans 
lounging against the hitching-rail at the curb. 

“Did you see him? Where did he go?” whispered 
Thome, as he joined Gale. “Those Greasers out there 
with the cartridge belts crossed over their breasts—they 
are rebels.” 

“I think he went into the saloon,” replied Dick. “He 
had a gun, but for all I can see the Greasers out there are 
unarmed.” 

“Never believe it! There! Look, Dick! That feh 
low’s a guard, though he seems so unconcerned. See, he 
has a short carbine, almost concealed.... There's another 
Greaser farther down the path. I’m afraid Rojas has the 
house spotted.” 

“If we could only be sure.” 

“I’m sure, Dick. Let’s cross the hall; I want to see 
how it looks from the other side of the house.” 

Gale followed Thome out of the restaurant into the 
high-ceiled corridor which evidently divided the hotel, 
opening into the street and running back to a patio. A 


MERCEDES CASTANEDA 

few din, yellow lamps flickered. A Mexican with a 
blanket round his shoulders stood in the front entrance. 
Back .oward the patio there were sounds of boots on the 
stone floor, Shadows flitted across that end of the cor¬ 
ridor. Thorne entered a huge chamber which was even 
more poorly lighted than the hall. It contained a table 
littered with papers, a few high-backed chairs, a couple 
of ^couches, ana was evidently a parlor, 

„ h ? S been mcetin 2 me here,” said Thome. 

At this hour she comes every moment or so to the head 
ot the stairs there, and if I am here she comes down. 
Mostly there are people in this room a little later. We 
go out into the plaza, It faces the dark side of the house, 
and that s the place I must slip out with her if there’® 
any cnance at ail to get away.” 

They peered out of the open window. The plaza was 
gloomy, and at first glance apparently deserted. In a 
moment, however, Gale made out a slow-padng dark fonn 
on the path. Farther down there was another. No 
particular keenness was required to see in these forms a 
sentinel-bike .stealthiness. 

Gripping Gale's arm, Thome pulled back from the win, 
dow. 


You saw them,” he whispered. “ It’s just as I feared. 
Ko;as has the place surrounded. I should have taken 
Mercedes away But I had no time—no chance! I’m 
bound? o. . There’s Mercedes now! My God?'. .. Dick, 
think —thinic if there’s a way to get her out cf this 
trap?” 

i turned as his fnend went down the room. In 
the dim light at the head of the stairs stood the slim,' 
muffled figure of a woman. When she saw Thome she 
flew noiselessly down the stairway to him. He caught 
her in his arms. Then she spoke softly, brokenly, in a 
tow, swift voice. It was a mingling of incoherent Spanish 
a.n a English; but to Gale it was mellow, deep, unutterably 
tender, a voice full of joy, fear, passion, hope, and love 
35 


DESERT GOLD 

Upon Gale it had an unaccountable effect. He found 
himself thrilling, wondering. 

Thome led the girl to the center of the room, under the 
light where Gale stood. She had raised a white hand, 
holding a black-lace mantilla half aside. Dick saw a small, 
dark head, proudly held, an oval face half hidden, white 
as a flower, and magnificent black eyes. 

Then Thome spoke. 

“Mercedes—Dick Gale, an old friend—the best friend 
I ever had.” 

She swept the mantilla back over her head, disclosing 
a lovely face, strange and striking to Gale in its pride 
and fire, its intensity. 

“Sefior Gale—ah! I cannot speak my happiness. 
His friend!” 

“Yes, Mercedes; my friend and yours,” said Thome, 
speaking rapidly. “We’ll have need of him. Dear, 
there’s bad news and no time to break it gently. The 
priest did not come. He must have been detained. 
And listen—be brave, dear Mercedes—Rojas is here!” 

She uttered an inarticulate cry, the poignant terror of 
which shook Gale’s nerve, and swayed as if she would 
faint. Thome caught her, and in husky voice impor¬ 
tuned her to bear up. 

“My darling! For God’s sake don’t faint—don’t go 
to pieces! We’d be lost! We’ve got a chance. We’ll 
think of something. Be strong! Fight!” 

It was plain to Gale that Thome was distracted. He 
scarcely knew what he was saying. Pale and shaking, he 
clasped Mercedes to him. Her terror had struck him 
helpless. It was so intense—it w T as so full of horrible 
certainty of what fate awaited her. 

She cried out in Spanish, beseeching him; and as he 
shook his head, she changed to English: 

“Senor, my lover, I will be strong—I will fight—I 
will obey. But swear by my Virgin, if need be to save 
me from Rojas—you will kill me!” 

36 


MERCEDES CASTANEDA 

“ Mercedes! Yes, I’ll swear,” he replied, hoarsely. “ I 
know—I’d rather have you dead than— But don’t give 
up. Rojas can’t be sure of you, or he wouldn’t wait. 
He’s in there. He’s got his men there—all around us. 
But he hesitates. A beast like Rojas doesn’t stand idle 
for nothing. I tell you we’ve a chance. Dick, here, will 
think of something. We’ll slip away. Then he’ll take 
you ^ somewhere. Only—speak to him—show him you 
won’t weaken. Mercedes, this is more than love and 
happiness for us. It’s life or death.” 

She became quiet, and slowly recovered control of her¬ 
self. 

Suddenly she wheeled to face Gale with proud dark 
eyes, tragic sweetness of appeal, ah exquisite grace. 

“Senor, you are an American. You cannot know the 
Spanish blood the peon bandit’s ha, ~e and cruelty. I 
wish to die before Rojas’s hand touches me. If he takes 
me alive, then the hour, the little day that my .life lasts 
afterward will be torture—torture of hell. If I live two 
days his brutal men will have me. If I live three, the 
dogs of his camp . . . Senor, have you a sister whom you 
love? Help Senor Thome to save me. He is a soldier. 
He is bound. He must not betray his honor, his duty, 
for me. . . . Ah, you two splendid Americans—so big, so 
strong, so fierce! What is that little black half-breed 
slave Rojas to such men? Rojas is a coward. Now, let 
me waste no more precious time. I am ready. I will 
be brave.” 

She came close to Gale, holding out her white hands, a 
W'-man all fire and soul and passion. To Gale she was 
wonderful. His heart leaped. As he bent over her hands 
and kissed them he seemed to feel himself renewed, 
remade. 

“Senorita,” he said, “I am happy to be your servant. 

I can conceive of no greater pleasure than giving the 
service you require.” 

“And what is that?” inquired Thome, hurriedly, 

37 


DESERT GOLD 

“That of incapacitating Senor Rojas for to-night, and 
perhaps several nights to come,” replied Gale. 

“Dick, what will you do?” asked Thome, now in 
alarm. 

“Ill make a row in that saloon,” returned Dick, blunt¬ 
ly. “I’ll start something. I’ll rush Rojas and his 
crowd. I’ll—” 

“Lord, no; you mustn’t, Dick—you’ll be knifed!” cried 
Thorne. He was in distress, yet his eyes were shining. 

“Ill take a chance. Maybe I can surprise that slow 
Greaser bunch and get away before they know what’s 

happened.You be ready watching at the window. 

When the row starts those fellows out there in the plaza 
wall run into the saloon. Then you slip out, go straight 
through the plaza down the street. It’s a dark street, I 
remember. I’ll catch up with you before you get far.” 

Thome gasped, but did not say a word. Mercedes 
leaned against him, her white hands now at her breast, 
her great eyes watching Gale as he went out. 

In the corridor Gale stopped long enough to pull on a 
pair of heavy gloves, to muss his hair, and disarrange his 
collar. Then he stepped into the restaurant, went through, 
and halted in the door leading into the saloon. His live 
feet eleven inches and one hundred and eighty pounds 
were more noticeable there, and it was part of his plan 
to attract attention to himself. No one, however, ap¬ 
peared to notice him. The pool-players were noisily in¬ 
tent on their game, the same crowd of motley-robed 
Mexicans hung over the reeking bar. Gale’s roving glance 
soon fixed upon the man he took to be Rojas. He recog¬ 
nized the huge, liigh-peaked, black sombrero with, its 
ornamented band. The Mexican’s face was turned aside. 
He was in earnest, excited colloquy with a dozen or more 
comrades, most of whom were sitting round a table. 
They were listening, talking, drinking. The fact that 
they wore cartridge belts crossed over their breasts satis¬ 
fied Gale that these were the rebels. He had noted the 
38 


MERCEDES CASTANEDA 

belts of the Mexicans outside, who were apparently guards, 
A waiter brought more drinks to this group at the table* 
and this caused the leader to turn so Gale could see his 
face. It was indeed the sinister, sneering face of the 
bandit Rojas. Gale gazed at the man with curiosity. He 
was under medium height, and striking in appearance 
only because of his dandified dress and evil visage. He 
wore a lace scarf, a tight, bright-buttoned jacket, a buck¬ 
skin vest embroidered in red, a sash and belt joined by an 
enormous silver clasp. Gale saw again the pearl-handled 
gun swinging at the bandit’s hip. Jewels flashed in his 
scarf. There were gold rings in his ears and diamonds 
on his fingers. 

Gale became conscious of ar inward fire that threat¬ 
ened to overrun his coolness. Other emotions harried 
his self-control. It seemed as if sight of the man liberated 
or created a devil in Gale. And at the bottom of his feel¬ 
ings there seemed to be a wonder at himself, a strange 
satisfaction for the something that had come to him. 

He stepped out of the doorway, down the couple of 
steps to the floor of the saloon, and he staggered a little, 
simulating drunkenness. He fell over the pool tables,' 
jostled. Mexicans at the bar, laughed like a maudlin fool' 
and, with his hat slouched down, crowded here and there. 
Presently his eye caught sight of the group of cowboys 
whom he had before noticed with such interest. 

They were still in a corner somewhat isolated. With 
fertile mind working, Gale lurched over to them. He 
remembered his many unsuccessful attempts to get ac¬ 
quainted with cowboys. If he were to get any help from 
these silent aloof rangers it must be by striking fire from 
them in one swift stroke. Planting himself squarely be¬ 
fore. the two tall cowboys who were standing, he looked 
straight into their lean, bronzed faces. He spared a full 
for ^ lat keen, cool gaze before he spoke. 

“I’m not drunk. I’m throwing a bluff, and I meaii to 
start a rough house. I’m going to rush that damned 
4 39 


DESERT GOLD 

bandit Rojas. It’s to save a girl—to give her lover, 
who is my friend, a chance to escape with her. She s in 
the house. Rojas is here to get her. When I start a 
row my friend will try to slip out with her. Every door 
and window is watched. I’ve got to raise hell to draw 
the guards in. . . . Well, you’re my countrymen. We’re 
in Mexico. A beautiful girl’s honor and life are at stake- 
Now, gentlemen, watch me!” 

One cowboy’s eyes narrowed, blinking a little, and his 
lean jaw dropped; the other’s hard face rippled with a 
fleeting smile. 

Gale backed away, and his pulse leaped when he saw 
the two cowboys, as if with one purpose, slowly stride 
after him. Then Gale swerved, staggering along, brushed 
against the tables, kicked over the empty chairs. He 
passed Rojas and Jiis gang, and out of the tail of his eye 
saw that the bandit was watching him, waving his hands 
and talking fiercely. The hum of the many voices grew 
louder, and when Dick lurched against a table, over¬ 
turning it and spilling glasses into the laps of several 
Mexicans, there arose a shrill cry. He had succeeded 
in attracting attention; almost every face turned his 
way. One of the insulted men, a little tawny fellow, 
leaped up to confront Gale, and in a frenzy screamed a 
volley of Spanish, of which Gale distinguished “Gringo!” 
The Mexican stamped and made a threatening move with 
his right hand. Dick swung his leg and with a swift 
side kick knocked the fellow’s feet from under him, 
whirling him down with a thud. 

The action was performed so suddenly, so adroitly, it 
made the Mexican such a weakling, so like a tumbled 
tenpin, that the shrill jabbering hushed. Gale knew 
this to be the significant moment. 

Wheeling, he rushed at Rojas. It was his old line- 
breaking plunge. Neither Rojas nor his men had time 
to move. The black-skinned bandit’s face turned a dirty 
white; his jaw dropped; he would have shrieked if Gale 


4-0 


MERCEDES CASTANEDA 

l^men^Tl-n SWeP u h ™ backward against 

JL“? Then Gales he avy body, swiftly following 

Tf rebel, m ^ entum of ^at rush, struck the little group 
sliding crash ^ d0TO ^ table and chai « in a 

a raf by his plunge ' went with them. Like 

a cat he landed on top. As he rose his powerful hands 
fastened on Rojas. He jerked the little bandit off the 
tangled pile of struggling, yelling men, and, swinging him 
tamfi , c . force ' Ie t go his hold. Rojas slid along the 
knocking over tables and chairs. Gale bounded 

limpsack. gSed R ° ^ UP ’ handHng him as if he were a 
A shot rang out above the yells. Gale heard the 

Heflash b I eakl l lg gla f' , The room darkened perceptibly. 
He flashed a glance backward. The two cowboys were 

hn* t lm and *1“ CrOWd of fra ntic rebels. One cow- 
boy held two guns low down, level in front of him The 
other had his gun raised and aimed. On the instant it 
spouted red and white. With the crack came the crash- 
mg of glass, another darkening shade over the room. 
Thfh 57 ? a ? S Ung the heeding Rojas from him. 
prone' andlt StrUck a tab * e ’ toppled over it, fell, and lay 

Another shot made the room full of moving shadows 
with light only back of the bar. A white-clad fWe 
rushed at Gale. He tripped the man, but had to kick 
hard to disengage himself from grasping hands. Another 
ipire closed in on Gale. This one was dark, swift A 
blade glinted described a circle aloft. Simultaneously 
with a close, red flash the knife wavered; the man wield- 
mg it stumbled backward. In the din Gale did not hear 
a report, but the Mexican’s fall was significant. Then 
pandemonium broke loose. The dim became a roan 
Gale heard shots that sounded like dull spats in the dis- 
tance. The big lamp behind the bar seemingly split, 
then sputtered and went out, leaving the room in darkness. 

41 


desert gold 

Gale leaped toward the restaurant door, which was out¬ 
lined faintly by the yellow light within. Right and left 
he pushed the groping men who jostled with him. He 
.vaulted a pool table, sent tables and chairs flying, and 
gained the door, to be the first of a wedging mob to squeeze 
through. One sweep of his arm knocked the restarurant 
lamp from its stand; and he ran out, leaving darkness 
behind him. A few bounds took him into the parlor. It 
was deserted. Thorne had gotten away with Mercedes. 

It was then Gale slowed up. For the space of perhaps 
sixty seconds he had been moving with startling velocity. 
He peered cautiously out into the plaza. The paths, the 
benches, the shady places under the trees contained no 
skulking men. He ran out, keeping to the shade, and 
did not go into the path till he was halfway through 
the plaza. Under a street lamp at the far end of the path 
he thought he saw two dark figures. He ran faster, and 
soon reached the street. The uproar back in the hotel 
began to diminish, or else he was getting out of hearing. 
The few people he saw close at hand were all coming his 
way, and only the foremost showed any excitement. 
Gale walked swiftly, peering ahead for two figures. Pres¬ 
ently he saw them—one tall, wearing a cape; the other 
slight, mantled. Gale drew a sharp breath of relief. 
Thorne and Mercedes were not far ahead. 

From time to time Thorne looked back. He strode 
swiftly, almost carrying Mercedes, who clung closely to 
him. She, too, looked back. Once Gale saw her white 
face flash in the light of a street lamp. He began to over¬ 
haul them; and soon, when the last lamp had been passed 
and the street was dark, he ventured a whistle. Thorne 
heard it, for he turned, whistled a low reply, and went on. 
Not for some distance beyond, where the street ended m 
open country, did they halt to wait. The desert began 
here. Gale felt the soft sand under his feet and saw 
the grotesque forms of cactus. Then he came up with the 
fugitives. 


42 


MERCEDES CASTANEDA 

GalT iCk! Are y0U ~ aI1 right? ” panted Thorne . grasping 

“I’m—out of breath—but—O.K.,” replied Gale 
“Good! Good!” choked Thorne. “I was scared- 
helpless. . . . Dick, it worked splendidly. We had no 
trouble. What on earth did you do?” 

“I made the row, all right,” said Dick. 

“Good Heavens! It was like a row I once heard made 
by a mob. But the shots, Dick—were they at you ? 
They paralyzed me. Then the yells. What happened? 
Those guards of Rojas ran round in front at the first 
shot. Tell me what happened.” 

“While I was rushing Rojas a couple of cowboys shot 
out the lamplights. A Mexican who pulled a knife on 
me got hurt, I guess. Then I think there was some 
shooting from the rebels after the room was dark.” 

“Rushing Rojas?” queried Thome, leaning close to 
Dick. His voice was thrilling, exultant, deep with a joy 
that yet needed confirmation. “What did you do to 
him?” 

“I handed him one off side, tackled, then tried a 
forward pass,” replied Dick, lightly speaking the football 
vernacular so familiar to Thorne. 

Thorne leaned closer, his fine face showing fierce and 
corded in the starlight. “Tell me straight,” he demanded, 
in thick voice. 

Gale then divined something of the suffering Thorne 
had undergone—something^ of the hot, wild, vengeful 
passion of a lover who must have brutal truth. 

It stilled Dick’s lighter mood, and he was about to 
reply when Mercedes pressed close to him, touched his 
hands, looked up into his face with wonderful eyes. He 
thought he would not soon forget their beauty—the shad- 
dow of pain that had been, the hope dawming so fugith'dy. 

“Dear lady,” said Gale, with voice not wholly steady, 
"Roias himself will hound you no more to-night, nor for 


43 


DESERT GOLD 

Gale leaped toward the restaurant door, which was out¬ 
lined faintly by the yellow light within. Right and left 
he pushed the groping men who jostled with him. He 
.vaulted a pool table, sent tables and chairs flying, and 
gained the door, to be the first of a wedging mob to squeeze 
through. One sweep of his arm knocked the restarurant 
lamp "from its stand; and he ran out, leaving darkness 
behind him. A few bounds took him into the parlor. It 
was deserted. Thorne had gotten away with Mercedes. 

It was then Gale slowed up. For the space of perhaps 
sixty seconds he had been moving with startling velocity. 
He peered cautiously out into the plaza. The paths, the 
benches, the shady places under the trees contained no 
skulking men. He ran out, keeping to the shade, and 
did not go into the path till he was halfway through 
the plaza. Under a street lamp at the far end of the path 
he thought he saw two dark figures. He ran faster, and 
soon reached the street. The uproar back in the hotel 
began to diminish, or else he was getting out of hearing. 
The few people he saw close at hand were all coming his 
way, and only the foremost showed any excitement. 
Gale walked swiftly, peering ahead for two figures. Pres¬ 
ently he saw them—one tall, wearing a cape; the other 
slight, mantled. Gale drew a sharp breath of relief. 
Thorne and Mercedes were not far ahead. 

From time to time Thorne looked back. He strode 
swiftly, almost carrying Mercedes, who clung closely to 
him. She, too, looked back. Once Gale saw her white 
face flash in the light of a street lamp. He began to over¬ 
haul them; and soon, when the last lamp had been passed 
and the street was dark, he ventured a whistle. Thorne 
heard it, for he turned, whistled a low reply, and went on. 
Not for some distance beyond, where the street ended in 
open country, did they halt to wait. The desert began 
here. Gale felt the soft sand under his feet and saw 
the grotesque forms of cactus. Then he came up with the 
fugitives. 


42 


MERCEDES CASTANEDA 

"Dick! Are you—all right ?” panted Thome, grasping 
Gale. 

“I’m—out of breath—but—O.K.,” replied Gale. 

“Good! Good!” choked Thorne. “I was scared_ 

helpless. . . . Dick, it worked splendidly. We had no 
trouble. What on earth did you do?” 

“I made the row, all right,” said Dick. 

“Good Heavens! It was like a row I once heard made 
by a mob. But the shots, Dick—were they at you? 
They paralyzed me. Then the yells. What happened? 
Those guards of Rojas ran round in front at the first 
shot. Tell me what happened.” 

“While I was rushing Rojas a couple of cowboys shot 
out the lamplights. A Mexican who pulled a knife on 
me got hurt, I guess. Then I think there was some 
shooting from the rebels after the room was dark.” 

“Rushing Rojas?” queried Thorne, leaning close to 
Dick. His voice was thrilling, exultant, deep with a joy 
that yet needed confirmation. “What did you do to 
him?” 

“I handed him one off side, tackled, then tried a 
forward pass,” replied Dick, lightly speaking the football 
vernacular so familiar to Thorne. 

Thorne leaned closer, his fine face showing fierce and 
corded in the starlight. “Tell me straight,” he demanded, 
in thick voice. 

Gale then divined something of the suffering Thorne 
had undergone—something^ of the hot, wdld, vengeful 
passion of a lover who must have brutal truth. 

It stilled Dick’s lighter mood, and he was about to 
reply when Mercedes pressed close to him, touched his 
hands, looked up into his face with wonderful eyes. He 
thought he would not soon forget their beauty—the shad- 
dow of pain that had been, the hope dawning so fugith'dy. 

“Dear lady,” said Gale, with voice not wholly steady, 
“Rojas himself will hound you no more to-night, nor for 


43 


DESERT GOLD 


be bayed by a doge Gale realized that he was between 
the edge of an unknown desert and the edge of a hostile 
town. He had to choose the desert t because* though he 
had no doubt that in Casita there were many Americans 
who might befriend him, he could not chance the risks 
oi seeking them at night, 

! He felt a slight touch on his arm, felt it move down* 
'felt Mercedes slip a trembling cold little hand into his. 
Dick looked at her. She seemed a white-faced girl now, 
with staring, frightened black eyes that flashed up at 
him. If the loneliness, the silence, the desert, the un¬ 
known dangers of the night affected him, what must they 
be to this hun ted, driven girl? Gale's heart swelled. He 
was alone with her. He had no weapon, no money, no 
food no drink, no covering, nothing except his two hands. 
He aad absolutely no knowledge of the desert, of the 
direction or whereabouts of the boundary line between 
the republics; he did not know where to find the railroad, 
or any road or trail, or whether or not there were towns 
near or far. It was a critical, desperate situation. He 
thought first of the girl, and groaned in spirit, prayed that 
it would be given him to save her. When he remembered 
himself it was with the stunning consciousness that he 
could conceive of no situation which he would have ex¬ 
changed for this one-—where fortune had set him a peril¬ 
ous task of loyalty to a friend, to a helpless girl. 

“Senor, senorsuddenly whispered Mercedes, dinging 
to him* “Listen! I hear horses coming?'* 


Ill 


A FLICHT INTO THE DESERT 

U NEASY and startled, Gale listened and, hearing 
nothing, wondered if Mercedes’s fears had not 
worked upon her imagination. He felt a trembling seize 
her, and he held her hands tightly. 

“You were mistaken, I guess,” he whispered. 

“No, no, senor.” 

Dick turned his ear to the soft wind. Presently he 
heard, or imagined he heard, low beats. Like the first 
faint, far-off beats of a drumming grouse, they recalled 
to him the Illinois forests of his boyhood. In a moment 
he was certain the sounds were the padlike steps of hoofs 
in yielding sand. The regular tramp was not that of 
grazing horses. 

On the instant, made cautious and stealthy by alarm, 
Gale drew Mercedes deeper into the gloom of the shrub¬ 
bery. Sharp pricks from thorns warned him that he was 
pressing into a. cactus growth, and he protected Mercedes 
as best he could. She was shaking as one with a severe 
chill. She breathed with little hurried pants <md leaned 
upon him almost in collapse. Gale ground his teeth in 
helpless rage at the girl’s fate. If she had not been beau¬ 
tiful she might still have been free and happy in her home. 
What a strange world to live in—how unfair was fate! 

The sounds of hoofbeats grew louder. Gale made out 
a dark moving mass against a background of dull gray. 
There was a line of horses. He could not discern whether 
or not all the horses carried riders. The murmur of a 
voice struck his ear—then a low laugh. It made him 
47 


DESERT GOLD 

tingle, for it sounded American. Eagerly he listened. 
There was an interval when only the hoofbeats could 
be heard. 

“It shore was, Laddy, it shore was,” came a voice out 
of the darkness. “Rough house! Laddy, since wire 
fences drove us out of Texas we ain’t seen the like of that. 
An' we never had such a call.” 

“Call? It was a bumin’ roast,” replied another voice. 
“I felt low down. He vamoosed some sudden, an’ I 
hope he an’ his friends shook the dust of Casita. That’s 
a rotten town, Jim.” 

Gale jumped up in joy. What luck! The speakers were 
none other than the two cowboys whom he had accosted 
in the Mexican hotel. 

“Hold on, fellows,” he called out, and strode into the 
road. 

The horses snorted and stamped. Then followed swift 
rustling sounds—a clinking of spurs, then silence. The 
figures loomed clearer in the gloom. Gale saw five or six 
horses, two with riders, and one other, at least, carrying 
a pack. When Gale got within fifteen feet of the group 
the foremost horseman said: 

. “I reckon that’s close enough, stranger.” 

Something in the cowboy’s hand glinted darkly bright 
in the starlight. 

“You’d recognize me, if it wasn’t so dark,” replied 
Gale, halting. “I spoke to you a little while ago—in the 
saloon back there.” 

“Come over an’ let’s see you,” said the cowboy, 
curtly. 

Gale advanced till he was close to the horse. The 
cowboy leaned over the saddle and peered into Gale’s 
face. Then, without a word, he sheathed the gun and 
held out his hand. Gale met a grip of steel that warmed 
his blood. The other cowboy got off his nervous, spirited 
horse and threw the bridle. He, too, peered closely into 
Gale’s face. 

4 S 



A FLIGHT INTO THE DESERT 

“My name’s Ladd,” he said. “Reckon I’m some glad 
to meet you again.” 

Gale felt another grip as hard and strong as the other 
had been. He realized he had found friends who be¬ 
longed to a class of men whom he had despaired of ever 
knowing. 

“Gale—Dick Gale is my name,” he began, swiftly. 

I dropped into Casita to-night hardly knowing where I 
was. A boy took me to that hotel. There I met an old 
friend whom I had not seen for years. He belongs to the 
cavalry stationed here. He had befriended a Spanish 
girl—fallen in love with her. Rojas had killed this girl’s 
father—tried to abduct her. . . . You know what took 
place at the hotel. Gentlemen, if it’s ever possible, I’ll 
show you how I appreciate what you did for me there. 
I got away, found my friend with the girl. We hurried 
out here beyond the edge of the town. Then Thome had 
to make a break for camp. We heard bugle calls, shots, 
and he was away without leave. That left the girl with 
me. I don’t know what to do. Thome swears Casita 
is no place for Mercedes at night.” 

“The girl ain’t no peon, no common Greaser?” inter¬ 
rupted Ladd. 

“No. Her name is Castaneda. She belongs to an old 
Spanish family, once rich and influential.” 

“Reckoned as much,” replied the cowboy. “There’s 
more than Rojas’s wantin’ to kidnap a pretty girl. Shore 
he does that every day or so. Must be somethin’ political 
or feelin’ against class. Well, Casita ain’t no place for 
your friend’s girl at night or day, or any time. Shore, 
there’s Americans who’d take her in an’ fight for her, if 
necessary. But it ain’t wise to risk that. Lash, what 
do you say?” 

“It’s been gettin’ hotter round this Greaser corral for 
some weeks,” replied the other cowboy. “If that two- 
bit of a garrison surrenders, there’s no tellin’ what ’ll 
happen. Orozco is headin’ west from Agua Prieta with 
49 . 


DESERT GOLD 


his guerrillas. Campo is bumin’ bridges ail’ tearin* up 
the railroad south of Nogales. Then there’s all these 
bandits callin’ themselves revolutionists just for an excuse 
to steal, bum, kill, an’ ride off with women. It’s plain 
facts, Laddy, an’ bein’ across the U. S. line a few inches or 
so don’t make no hell of a difference. My advice is, 
don’t let Miss Castaneda ever set foot in Casita again.’* 

“Looks like you’ve shore spoke sense,” said Ladd. 
“I reckon, Gale, you an’ the girl ought to come with us. 
Casita shore would be a little warm for as to-morrow. 
We didn’t kill anybody, but I shot a Greaser’s arm off, 
an’ Lash strained friendly relations by destroyin’ property. 
We know' people who’ll take care of the sefforita till your 
friend can come for her.” 

Dick warmly spoke his gratefulness, and, inexpressibly 
relieved and happy fcr Mercedes, he went toward the 
clump of cactus where he had left her. She stood erect, 
waiting, and, dark as it was, he could tell she had lost the 
terror that had so shaken her. 

“Senor Gale, you are my good angel,” she said, tremu¬ 
lously. 

“I’ve been lucky to fall in with these men, and Fm 
glad with ail my heart,” he replied. “Come.” 

He led her into the road up to the cowboys, wno now 
stood bareheaded in the starlight. They seemed shy, and 
Lash was silent while Ladd made embarrassed, unin¬ 
telligible reply to Mercedes’s thank;:. 

There were five horses—two saddled, two packed, and 
the remaining one carried only a blanket. Ladd short¬ 
ened the stirrups on his mount, and helped Mercedes up 
into the saddle. From the way she settled herself and 
-took the few restive prances of the mettlesome horse 
Gale judged that she could ride. Lash urged Gale to 
take his horse. But this Gale refused to do. 

“HI walk,” he said. “I’m used to walking. I know 
cowboys, are not.” 

They tried again to persuade him, without avail Then 
So 


A FLIGHT INTO THE DESERT 

Ladd started off, riding bareback. Mercedes fell in be¬ 
hind, with Gale walking beside her. The two pack animals 
came next, and Lash brought up the rear. 

Once started with protection assured for the girl and a 
real objective point in view, Gale relaxed from the tense 
strain he had been laboring under. How glad he would 
have been to acquaint Thome with their good fortune! 
Later, of course, there would be some wav to get word 
to the cavalryman. But till then what” torments his 
friend would suffer! 

It seemed to Dick that a very long time had elapsed 
since he stepped off the train *, and one by one he went over 
every detail of incident which had occurred between 
that arrival and the present moment. Strange as the 
facts were, he had no doubts. He realized that before 
that night he had never known the deeps of wrath un¬ 
disturbed in him; had never conceived even a passing idea 
that it was possible for him to try to kill a man. His 
right hand was swollen stiff, so sore that he could scarcely 
close it. His knuckles were bruised and bleeding, and 
ached with a sharp pain. Considering the thickness of 1 
his heavy glove, Gale was of the opinion that so to bruise 
his hand he must have struck Rojas a powerful blow. 
He remembered that for him to give or take a blow had 
been nothing. This blow to Rojas, however, had been a 
different matter. The hot wrath which had been his 
motive was not puzzling; but the effect on him after he 
had cooled off, a subtle difference, something puzzled and 
eluded him. The more it baffled him the more he pom 
dered. All those wandering months of his had been filled 
with dissatisfaction, yet he had been too apathetic to un¬ 
derstand himself. So he had not been much of a person • 
to try. Perhaps it had not been the blow to Rojas any 
more than other things that had wrought some change in 
him. 

His meeting with Thorne; the wonderful black eyes of 
a Spanish girl; her appeal to him; the hate inspired by 


DESERT GOLD 

Rojas, and the rush, the blow, the action; sight of Thome 
and Mercedes hurrying safely away; the girl’s hand 
pressing his to her heaving breast; the sweet fire of her 
kiss; the fact of her being alone with him, dependent 
upon him—all these things Gale turned over and over in 
his mind, only to fail of any definite conclusion as to which 
had affected him so remarkably, or to tell what had 
really happened to him. 

Had he fallen in love with Thorne’s sweetheart? The 
idea came in a flash. Was he, all in an instant, and by 
one of those incomprehensible reversals of character, 
jealous of his friend? Dick was almost afraid to look up 
at Mercedes. Still he forced himself to do so, and as it 
chanced Mercedes was looking down at him. Some¬ 
how the light was better, and he clearly saw her white 
face, her black and starry eyes, her perfect mouth. With 
a quick, graceful impulsiveness she put her hand upon his 
shoulder. Like her appearance, the action was new, 
strange, striking to Gale; but it brought home suddenly 
to him the nature of gratitude and affection in a girl of her 
blood. It was sweet and sisterly. He knew then that 
he had not fallen in love with her. The feeling that w r as 
akin to jealousy seemed to be of the beautiful something 
for which Mercedes stood in Thome’s life. Gale then 
grasped the bewildering possibilities, the infinite wonder 
of what a girl could mean to a man. 

The other haunting intimations of change seemed to be 
elusively blended with sensations—the heat and thrill of 
action, the sense of something done and more to do, the 
utter vanishing of an old weary hunt for he knew not what. 
Maybe it had been a hunt for work, for energy, for spirit, 
for love, for his real self. Whatever it might be, there 
appeared to be now some hope of finding it. 

The desert began to lighten. Gray openings in the 
border of shrubby growths changed to paler hue. The 
road could be seen some rods ahead, and it had become 
a stony descent down, steadily down. Dark, ridged backs 

52 


A FLIGHT INTO THE DESERT 

of mountains bounded the horizon, and all seemed near 
at hand, hemming in the plain. In the east a white glow 
grew brighter and brighter, reaching up to a line of cloud, 
defined sharply below by a rugged notched range. Pres¬ 
ently a silver circle rose behind the black mountain, and 
the gloom of the desert underwent a transformation. 
From a gray mantle it changed to a transparent haze. 
The moon was rising. 

“Senor I am cold,” said Mercedes. 

Dick had been carrying his coat upon his arm. He had 
felt warm, even hot, and had imagined that the steady 
walk had occasioned it. But his skin was cool. The 
heat came from an inward burning. He stopped the 
horse and raised the coat up, and helped Mercedes put 
it on. 

‘‘I should have thought of you,” he said. “But I 
seemed to feel warm . . . The coat’s a little large; we 
might wrap it round you twice.” 

Mercedes smiled and lightly thanked him in Spanish. 
The flash of mood was in direct contrast to the appealing, 
passionate, and tragic states in which he had successively 
viewed her; and it gave him a vivid impression of what 
vivacity and charm she might possess under happy 
conditions. He was about to start when he observed that 
Ladd had halted and was peering ahead in evident 
caution. Mercedes’ horse began to stamp impatiently, 
raised his ears and head, and acted as if he was about to 
neigh. 

A warning “hist!” from Ladd bade Dick put a quieting 
hand on the horse. Lash came noiselessly forward to 
join his companion. The two then listened and watched. 

An uneasy yet thrilling stir ran through Gale’s veins. 
This scene was not fancy. These men of the ranges had 
heard or seen or scented danger. It was all real, as 
tangible and sure as the touch of Mercedes’s hand upon 
his arm. Probably for her the night had terrors beyond 
Gale’s power to comprehend. He looked down into the 

53 


DESERT GOLD 

desert, and would have felt no surprise at anything hidden 
away among the bristling cactus, the dark,, winding 
arroyos, the shadowed rocks with their moonlit tips, the 
ragged plain leading to the black bold mountainSc The 
wind appeared to blow softly, with an almost impercep¬ 
tible moan, ever the deserto That was a new sound to 
Gale. But he heard nothing more., 

Presently Lash went to the rear and Ladd started 
ahead* The progress now, however, was considerably 
slower, not owing to a bad road—for that became better 
—but probably owing to caution exercised by the cowboy 
guide. At the end of a half hour this marked delibenv 
tion changed, and the horses followed Ladd's at a gait 
that put Gale to his best walking-paces. 

Meanwhile the moon soared high above the black 
corrugated peaks. The gray, the gloom, the shadow 
whitened. The clearing of the dark foreground appeared 
to lift a distant veil and show endless aisles of desert 
reaching down between dim horizon-bounding range* 

_ Gale gazed abroad, knowing that as this night was the 
first time for him to awake to consciousness of a vague, 
wonderful other self, so it was one wherein he began to be 
aware of an encroaching presence of physical tilings— 
the immensity of the star-studded sky, the soaring moon, 
the bleak, mysterious mountains, and limitless slope, and 
plain,^ and ridge, and valley., These things in all their 
magnificence had not been unnoticed by him before; only 
now they spoke a different meaning.. A voice that he 
had never heard called him to see, to fed the vast hard 
externals of heaven and earth, all that represented the 
open, the free, silence and solitude and space 
Once more his thoughts, like his steps, were 'salted by 
Ladd’s actions. The cowboy reined in his horse, listened 
a moment, then swung down out of the saddle. He 
raised a cautioning hand to the others, then slipped into 
the gloom and disappeared. Gale marked that the halt 
had been made in a ridged and cut-up pass between low 


A FLIGHT INTO THE DESERT 

mesas. He could see the columns of cactus standing out 
black against the moon-white sky. The horses were 
evidently tiring, for they showed no impatience. Gale 
heard their panting breaths, and also the bark of some 
animal—a dog or a coyote. It sounded like a dog, and this 
led Gale to wonder if there was any house near at hand 
To the right, up under the ledges some distance away, 
stood two square black objects, too uniform, he thought, 
to be rocks. While he was peering at them, uncertain 
what to think, the shrill whistle of a horse pealed out, 
to be followed by the rattling of hoofs on hard stone. 
Then a dog barked. At the same moment that Ladd 
hurriedly appeared in the road a light shone out and danced 
before one of the square black objects. 

“Keep close an* don’t make no noise,” he whispered, 
and led his horse at right angles off the road. 

Gale followed, leading Mercedes’s horse. As he turned 
he observed that Lash also had dismounted. 

To keep closely at Ladd’s heels without brushing the 
cactus or stumbling over rocks and depressions was a 
task Gale found impossible. After he had been stabbed 
several times by the bayonetlike spikes, which seemed 
invisible, the matter of caution became equally one of 
self-preservation. Both the cowboys, Dick had observed, 
wore leather chaps. It was no easy matter to lead a 
spirited horse through the dark, winding lanes walled by 
thorns. Mercedes’s horse often balked and had to be 
coaxed and carefully guided. Dick concluded that Ladd 
.was making a wide detour. The position of certain 
stars grown familiar during the march veered round 
from one side to another. Dick saw that the travel was 
fast, but by no means noiseless. The pack animals 
at times crashed and ripped through the narrow places. 
It seemed to Gale that any one within a mile could have 
heard these sounds. From the tops of knolls or ridges 
he looked back, trying to locate the mesas where the light 
had danced and the dog had barked alarm. He could 
5 JS 


DESERT GOLD 


not distinguish these two rocky eminences from among 
many rising in the background. 

Presently Ladd led out into a wider lane that appeared 
to run straight. The cowboy mounted his horse, and this 
fact convinced Gale that they had circled back to the road. 
The march proceeded then once more at a good, steady, 
silent walk. When Dick consulted his watch he was 
amazed to see that the hour was still early. How much 
had happened in little time! He now began to be aware 
that the night was growing colder; and, strange to him, 
he felt something damp that in a country he knew he 
would have recognized as dew. He had not been aware 
there was dew on the desert. The wind blew stronger, 
the stars shone whiter, the sky grew darker, and the moon 
climbed toward the zenith. The road stretched level for 
miles, then crossed arroyos and ridges, wound between 
mounds of broken ruined rock, found a level again, and 
then began a long ascent. Dick asked Mercedes if she 
was cold, and she answered that she was. speaking espe¬ 
cially of her feet, which were growing numb. Then she 
asked to be helped down to walk awhile. At first she 
was cold and lame, and accepted the helping hand Dick 
proffered. After a little, however, she recovered and 
went on without assistance. Dick could scarcely believe 
his eyes, as from time to time he stole a sidelong glance 
at this silent girl, who walked with lithe and. rapid stride. 
She was wrapped in his long coat, yet it did not hide her 
slender grace. He could not see her face, which was 
concealed by the black mantle. 

A low-spoken word from Ladd recalled Gale to the ques¬ 
tion of surroundings and of possible dangers. Ladd had 
halted a few yards ahead. They had reached the summit 
of what was evidently a high ridge which sloped with much 
greater steepness on the far side. It was only after a few 
more forward steps, however, that Dick could see down 
the slope. Then full in view flashed a bright campfire 
around which clustered a group of dark figures. They 


A FLIGHT INTO THE DESERT 

were encamped in a wide arroyo, where horses could be 
seen grazing in black patches of grass between clusters 
of trees. A second look at the campers told Gale they 
were Mexicans. At this moment Lash came forward to 
join Ladd, and the two spent a long, uninterrupted mo¬ 
ment studying the arroyo. A hoarse laugh, faint yet 
distinct, floated up on the cool wind. 

“Well, Laddy, what’re you makin’ of that outfit?’ 9 
inquired Lash, speaking softly. 

“Same as any of them raider outfits,” replied Ladd. 
“They’re across the line for beef. But they’ll run ofi 
any good stock. As boss thieves these rebels have got 
’em all beat. That outfit is waitin’ till it’s late. There’s 
a ranch up the arroyo.” 

Gale heard the first speaker curse under his breath. 

. “Shore, I feel the same,” said Ladd. “But we’ve got a 
girl an’ the young man to look after, not to mention our 
pack outfit. An’ we’re huntin' for a job, not a fight, old 
boss. Keep on your chaps V’ 

“Nothin’ to it but head south for the Rio For¬ 
lorn.” 

“You’re talkin’ sense now, Jim. I wish we’d headed 
that way long ago. But it ain’t strange I’d want to 
travel away from the border, thinkin’ of the girl. Jim, 
we can’t go round this Greaser outfit an’ strike the road 
again. Too rough. So we’ll have to give up gettin’ to 
San Felipe.” 

“Perhaps it’s just as well, Laddy. Rio Forlorn, is on 
the border line, but it’s country where these rebels ain’t 
been yet.” 

“Wait till they learn of the oasis an’ Beldin’s hosses!” 
exclaimed Laddy. “I’m not anticipatin' peace any¬ 
where along the border, Jim. But we can’t go ahead; 
we can’t go back,” 

“What ’ll we do, Laddy? It’s a hike to Beldin’s 
ranch. An’ if we get there in daylight some Greaser will 
see the girl before Beldin’ can hide her. It ’ll get talked 
57 


DESERT GOLD 

aoout. The news ’ll travel to Casita like sage balls before 
the wind.” 

“Shore we won’t ride into Rio Forlorn in the daytime. 
Let’s slip the packs, Jim. We can hide them off in the 
cactus an’ come back after them. With the young man 
ridin’ we—” 

The whispering was interrupted by a loud ringing neigh 
that whistled up from the arroyo. One of the horses had 
scented the travelers on the ridge top. The indifference 
of the Mexicans changed to attention. 

Ladd and Lash turned back and led the horses into the 
first opening on the south side of the road. There was 
nothing more said at the moment, and manifestly the 
cowboys were in a hurry. Gale had to run in the open 
places to keep up. When they did stop it was welcome to 
Gale, for he had begun to fall behind. 

The packs were slipped, securely tied and hidden in a 
mesquite clump. Ladd strapped a blanket around one 
of thejiorses. His next move was to take off his chaps. 

“Gale, you’re wearin’ boots, an’ by liftin’ your feet you 
can beat the cactus,” he whispered. “But the—the— 
Miss Castaneda, she’ll be tom all to pieces unless she 
puts these on. Please tell her—an’ hurry.” 

Dick took the chaps, and, going up to Mercedes, he ex- 
plained the situation. She laughed, evidently at his em¬ 
barrassed earnestness, and slipped out of the saddle. 

“Senor, chapparejos and I are not strangers,” she said. 

Deftly and promptly she equipped herself, and then 
Gale helped her into the saddle, called to her horse, and 
started off. Lash directed Gale to mount the other sad¬ 
dled horse and go next. 

Dick had not ridden a hundred yards behind the trot¬ 
ting leaders before he had sundry painful encounters with 
reaching cactus arms. The horse missed these by a narrow 
margin. Dick’s knees appeared to be in line, and it be¬ 
came necessary for him to lift them high and let his boots 
take the onslaught of the spikes. He was at home in the 
58 


A FLIGHT INTO THE DESERT 

saddle, and the accomplishment was about the only one 
he possessed that had been of any advantage during his 
sojourn in the West. 

Ladd pursued a zigzag course southward across the 
desert, trotting down the aisles, cantering in wide, bare 
patches, walking through the clumps of cacti. The desert 
seemed all of a sameness to Dick—a wilderness of rocks 
and jagged growths hemmed in by lowering ranges, always 
looking close, yet never growing any nearer. The moon 
slanted back toward the west, losing its white radiance, 
and the gloom of the earlier evening began to creep into 
the washes and to darken under the mesas. By and by 
Ladd entered an arroyo, and here the travelers turned 
and twisted with the meanderings of a dry stream bed. 

At the head of a canon they had to take once more to 
the rougher ground. Always it led down, always it grew 
rougher, more rolling, with wider bare spaces, always the 
black ranges loomed close. 

Gale became chilled to the bone, and his clothes were t 
damp and cold. His knees smarted from the wounds of HP 
the poisoned thorns, and his right hand was either swollen 
stiff or too numb to move. Moreover, he was tiring. The 
excitement, the long walk, the miles on miles of jolting 
trot—these had wearied him. Mercedes must be made 
of steel, he thought, to stand all that she had been sub¬ 
jected to and yet, when the stars were paling and dawn 
perhaps not far away, stay in the saddle. 

So Dick Gale rode on, drowsier for each mile, and more 
and more giving the horse a choice of ground. Sometimes 
a prod from a murderous spine roused Dick. A grayness 
had blotted out the waning moon in the west and the clear, 
dark, starry sky overhead. Once when Gale, thinking 
to fight his weariness, raised his head, he saw that one of 
the horses in the lead was riderless. Ladd was carrying 
Mercedes. Dick marveled that her collapse had not 
come sooner. Another time, rousing himself again, he 
imagined they were now on a good hard road. 

59 

9 


DESERT GOLD 


It seemed that hours passed, though he knew only little 
time had elapsed, when once more he threw off the spell 
of weariness. He heard a dog bark. Tall trees lined the 
open lane down which he was riding. Presently in the 
gray gloom he saw low, square houses with flat roofs. 
Ladd turned off to the left down another lane, gloomy 
between trees. Every few rods there was one of the 
squat houses. This lane opened into wider, lighter space. 
The cold air bore a sweet perfume—whether of flowers or 
fruit Dick could not tell. Ladd rode on for perhaps a 
quarter of a mile, though it seemed interminably long to 
pick. A grove of trees loomed dark in the gray of morn¬ 
ing. Ladd entered it and was lost in the shade. Dick 
rode on among trees. Presently he heard voices, and soon 
another house, low and flat like the others, but so long 
he could not see the farther end, stood up blacker than 
the trees.' As he dismounted, cramped and sore, he could 
scarcely stand. Lash came alongside. He spoke, and 
some one with a big, hearty voice replied to him. Then 
it seemed to Dick that he was led into blackness like 
pitch, where, presently, he felt blankets thrown on him T 
and then Hs drowsy faculties faded. 


IV 


FORLORN RIVER 


W HEN Dick opened his eyes a flood of golden sun¬ 
shine streamed in at the open window under which 
he lay. His first thought was one of blank wonder as to 
where in the world he happened to be. The room was 
large, square, adobe-walled. It was littered with saddles, 
harness, blankets. Upon the floor was a bed spread out 
upon a tarpaulin. Probably this was where some one 
had slept. The sight of huge dusty spurs, a gun belt 
wjth sheath and gun, and a pair of leather chaps bristling 
with broken cactus thorns recalled to Dick the cowboys, 
the ride, Mercedes, and the whole strange adventure that 
had brought him there. 

He did not recollect having removed his boots; indeed, 
upon second thought, he knew he had not done so. But 
there they stood upon the floor. Ladd and Lash must 
have taken them off when he was so exhausted and sleepy 
that he could not tell what was happening. He felt a dead 
weight of complete lassitude, and he did not want to 
move. A sudden pain in his hand caused him to hold 
it up. It was black and blue, swollen to almost twice 
its normal size, and stiff as a board. The knuckles were 
skinned and crusted with dry blood. Dick soliloquized 
that it was the worst-looking hand he had seen since 
football days, and that it would inconvenience him for 
some time. 

A warm, dry, fragrant breeze came through the window. 
Dick caught again the sweet smell of flowers or fruit. 
He heard the fluttering of leaves, the murmur of running 
61 


DESERT GOLD 


water, the twittering of birds, then the sound of approach¬ 
ing footsteps and voices. The door at the far end of the 
room was open. Through it he saw poles of peeled 
wood upholding a porch roof, a bench, rose bushes in 
bloom, grassland beyond these bright - green foliage of 
trees. 

“He shore was sleepin’ when I looked in an hour ago,” 
said a voice that Dick recognized as Ladd’s. 

“Let him sleep,” came the reply in deep, good-natured 
tones. “Mrs. B. says the girl’s never moved. Must 
have been a tough ride for them both. Forty miles 
through cactus!” 

“Young Gale hoofed dam near half the way,” replied 
Ladd. “We tried to make him ride one of our bosses. 
If we had, we’d never got here. A walk like that’d 
killed me an’ Jim.” 

“Well, Laddy, I’m right down glad to see you boys, 
and I’ll do all I can for the young couple,” said tha 
other. “But I’m doing some worry here; don’t mistake 
me. 

‘ ‘ About your stock ?” 

“Fve got only a few head of cattle at the oasis now. 
I'm worrying some, mostly about my horses. Tha 
U. S. is doing some worrying, too, don’t mistake me. 
The rebels have worked west and north as far as Casita. 
There are no cavalrymen along the line beyond Casita, 
and there can’t be. It’s practically waterless desert. 
But these rebels are desert men. They could cross the 
line beyond the Rio Forlorn and smuggle arms into 
Mexico. Of course, my job is to keep tab on Chinese and 
Japs trying to get into the U. S. from Magdalena Bay. 
But I’m supposed to patrol the border line. I'm going to 
hire some rangers. Now, I’m not so afraid of being shot 
up, though out in this lonely place there’s danger of it; what 
I’m afraid of most is losing that bunch of horses. If any 
rebels come this far, or if they ever hear of my horses, 
they’re going to raid me. You know what those guerrilla 
62 


FORLORN RIVER 


Mexicans will do for horses. They’re crazy on horse 
flesh. They know fine horses. They breed the finest 
in^the world. So I don’t sleep nights any more.” 

Reckon me an’ Jim might as well tie up with you for a 
spell, ? Be din’. We’ve been Tidin’ up an’ down Arizona 
tryin to keep out of sight of wire fences.” 

Laddy, it’s open enough around Forlorn River to 
satisfy even an old-time cowpuncher like you,” laughed 
Belding. “I’d take your staying on as some favor, don’t 
mistake me. Perhaps I can persuade the young man 
Gale to take a job with me.” 

That s shore likely. He said he had no money, no 
friends. An’ if a scrapper’s all you’re lookin’ for he’ll do, ” 
replied Ladd, with a dry chuckle. 

“Mrs. B. will throw some broncho capers round this 
ranch when she hears I m going to hire a stranger.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, there's Nell— And you said this Gale was a 
young American. My wife will be scared to death for 
fear Nell will fall in love with him.” 

Laddy choked off a laugh, then evidently slapped his 
knee or Belding s, for there was a resounding smack. 

“He’s a fine-spoken, good-looking chap, you said?” 
went on Belding. 

Shore he is, said Laddy, warmly. “What do you 
say, Jim?” 

By tlois time Dick Gale’s ears began to burn and he was 
trying to make himself deaf when he wanted to hear every 
little word. 


“Husky young fellow, nice voice, steady, clear eyes, 
kinda proud, I thought, an’ some handsome, he was,” 
replied Jim Lash. 

“ Maybe I ought to think twice before taking a stranger 
into my family,” said Belding, seriously. “Well, I guess 
he’s all right, Laddy, being the cavalryman’s friend. 
No bum or lunger? He must be all right?” 

Bum? Lunger? Say, didn’t I tell you I shook hands 
63 


'DESERT GOLD 

with this boy an’ was plumb glad to meet him?” de¬ 
manded Laddy, with considerable heat. Manifestly he 
had been affronted. “Tom Beldin\ he’s a gentleman, an’ 
he could lick you in—in half a second. How about that, 
Jim?” 

“Less time,” replied Lash. “Tom, here’s my stand 
Young Gale can have my hoss, my gun, anythin’ of mine.’ 1 " 

“Aw, I didn’t mean to insult you, boys, don’t mistake 
me,” said Belding. “Course he’s all right.” 

The object of this conversation lay quiet upon his bed, 
thrilling and amazed at being so championed by the cow¬ 
boys, delighted with Belding’s idea of employing him, and 
much amused with the quaint seriousness of the three. 

“How’s the young man?” called a woman’s voice. It 
was kind and mellow and earnest. 

Gale heard footsteps on flagstones. 

“He’s asleep yet, wife,” replied Belding. “Guess he 
was pretty much knocked out. . . . I’ll close the door there 
so we won’t wake him.” 

There were slow, soft, steps, then the door softly closed. 
But the fact scarcely made a perceptible difference in the 
sound of the voices outside. 

t< “Laddy and Jim are going to stay,” went on Belding. 

It 11 be like the old Panhandle days a little. I’m 
powerful glad to have the boys, Nellie. You know I 
meant to send to Casita to ask them. W'e’U see some! 
trouble before the revolution is ended. I think I’ll make 
this young man Gale an offer.” 

“He isn’t a cowboy?” asked Mrs. Belding, quickly. 

“No.” 


“ s hore he’d make a dam good one,” put in Laddy. 
“What is he? Who is he? Where did he come from? 
Surely you must be—” 

4< “Laddy swears he’s all right,” interrupted the husband. 
‘That’s enough reference for me. Isn’t it enough for 
you?” 

Humph! Laddy knows a lot about young men, now 
64 


FORLORN RIVER 

doesn’t he, especially strangers from the East? . . . Tom 

you must be careful!” 

^ ife, I m only too glad to have a nervy young chap 
come along. What sense is there in your objection if 
Jim and Laddy stick up for him?” 

‘'But, Tom—he’ll fall in love with Nell!” protested 
Mrs. Belding. 

“Well, wouldn’t that be regular? Doesn’t every man 
who comes along fall in love with Nell? Hasn’t it always 
happened? When she was a schoolgirl in Kansas didn’t 
it happen ? Didn t she have a hundred moon-eyed ninnies 
after her in Texas? I’ve had some peace out here in the 
desert, except when a Greaser or a prospector or a Yaqui 
would come along. Then same old story- dn love with 
Nell!” 

“But, Tom, Nell might fall in love with this young 
man!” exclaimed the wife, in distress. 

“Laddy, Jim, didn’t I tell you?” cried Belding. “I 
knew she’d say that. ... My dear wife, I would be simply 
overcome with joy if Nell did fall in love once. Real 
good and hard! She’s wilder than any antelope out there 
on the desert. Nell’s nearly twenty now, and so far as 
we know she’s never cared a rap for any fellow. And 
she’s just as gay and full of the devil as she was at four¬ 
teen. Nell’s as good and lovable as she is pretty, but 
I’m afraid she’ll never grow into a woman while we live 
out in this .lonely land. And you’ve always hated towns 
where there was a chance for the girl—just because you 
were afraid she’d fall in love. You’ve always been 
strange, even silly, about that. I’ve done my best for 
Nett—loved her as if she were my own daughter. I’ve 
changed many business plans to suit your whims. There 
are rough times ahead, maybe. I need men. I’ll hire 
this chap Gale if he’ll stay. Let Nell take her chance 
with him, just as she’ll have to take chances with men 
when we get out of the desert. She’ll be all the better 
for it.” 


DESERT GOLD 


“I hope Laddy *s not mistaken in his opinion of this 
newcomer,” replied Mrs. Belding, with a sigh of resigna- 
tion. 

“ Shore I never made a mistake in my life figger’n* 
people,” said Laddy, stoutly. 

“Yes, you have, Laddy,” replied Mrs. Belding. “You’re 
wrong about Tom. . . .Well, supper is to be got. That 
young man and the girl will be starved. I’ll go in now. 
If Nell happens around don’t—don’t flatter her, Laddy, 
like you did at dinner. Don’t make her think of her 
looks.” 

Dick heard Mrs. Belding walk away. 

“Shore she’s powerful particular about that girl,” ob¬ 
served Laddy. “Say, Tom, Nell knows she’s pretty, 
doesn’t she?” 

“She’s liable to find it out unless you shut up, Laddy. 
When you visited us out here some weeks ago, you kept 
paying cowboy compliments to her.” 

“An’ it’s your idee that cowboy compliments are 
plumb bad for girls?” 

“Downright bad, Laddy, so my wife says.” 

“I’ll be darned if I believe any girl can be hurt by a 
little sweet talk. It pleases ’em. . . . But say, Beldhr, 
speaking of looks, have you got a peek yet at the Spanish 
girl?” 

“ Not in the light.” 

“Well, neither have I in daytime. I load enough by 
moonlight. Nell is some on looks, but I’m regretful 
passin’ the ribbon to the lady from Mex. Jim, where are 
you?” 

“My money’s on Nell,” replied Lash. “Gimme a girl 
with flesh an’ color, an’ blue eyes a-laughin’. Miss 
Castaneda is some peach, I’ll not gainsay. But her face 
seemed too white. An’ when she flashed those eyes on 
me, I thought I ]was shot! When she stood up there at 
first, thankin’ us, I felt as if a—a princess was round some¬ 
where. Now, Nell is kiddish an’ sweet an*—" 

66 


FORLORN RIVER 

“Chop it,” interrupted Belding. “Here comes Nell 
now.” 

Dick’s tingling ears took in the pattering of light foot¬ 
steps, the rush of some one running. 

Here you are,” cried a sweet, happy voice. “ Dad, the 
Senorita is perfectly lovely. I’ve been peeping at her. 
She sleeps like—like death. She’s so white. Oh, I hooe 
she won’t be ill.” 

“Shore she’s only played out,” said Laddy. “But she 
had spunk while it lasted. ... I was just arguin’ with Jim 
an’ Tom about Miss Castaneda.” 

“Gracious! Why, she’s beautiful. I never saw any 
one so beautiful.. .. How strange and sad, that about her! 
Tell me more, Laddy. You promised. I’m dying to 
know. I never hear anything in this awful place. Didn’t 
you say the Senorita had a sweetheart?” 

“Shore I did.” 

“And he’s a cavalryman?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Is he the young man who came with you?” 

“Nope. That fellow’s the one who saved the girl 
from Rojas.” 

“Ah! Where is he, Laddy?” 

“He’s in there asleep.” 

“Is he hurt?” 

“I reckon not. He walked about fifteen miles.” 

“Is he—nice, Laddy?” 

“Shore.” 

“What is he like?” 

“Well, I’m not long acquainted, never saw him by day, 
but I was some toierable took with him. An’ Jim here, 
Jim says the young man can have his gun an’ his hoss.” 

“Wonderful! Laddy, what on earth did this stranger 
do to win you cowboys in just one night?” 

“ I’ll shore have to tell you. Me an’ Jim were watchin 
a game of cards in the Del Sol saloon in Casita. That’s 
across the line., We had acquaintances—four fellows from 
67 


DESERT GOLD 

the Cross Bar outfit, where we worked a while back. 
This Dei Sol is a billiard hall, saloon* restaurant, an” the 
like. An* it was full of Greasers. Some of Campo's 
rebels were there drinkin* an* playin’ games.. Then pretty 
soon in come Rojas with some of his outfit. They were 
packin' guns an* kept to themselves off to one side, I 
didn't give them a second look till Jim said he reckoned, 
there was somethin” in the wind. Then, careless-like, I 
began to peek at Rojas. They call Rojas the dandy 
rebel/ an* he shore looked the part* It made me sick to 
see him in all that lace an* glitter* known/ him to be the 
cutthroat robber he is, It*s no onoommon sight to see 
excited Greasers. They're ail crazy. But this bandit 
was shore some agitated. He kept his men in a tight 
bunch round a table* He talked an" waved his hands. 
He was actually shaking His eyes had a wild glare. 
Now I figgered that trouble was brewing most likely for 
the little Casita garrison. People seemed to think Campc 
an" Rojas would join forces to oust the federate* Jim 
thought Rojas's excitement was at the hatchin of some 
plot. Anyway, we didn’t join no card games, an* without 
pretendin’ to, we was some watchful. 

“A little while afterward I seen a fellow standur in the 
restaurant door. He was a young American dressed In 
corduroys an' boots* like a prospector You know it ? s 
no onusuai fact to see prospectors in these parts. What t 
made me think twice about this one was how big he 
seemed, how he filled up that door. He looked round 
the saloon, an* when he spotted Rojas he sorta jerked 
np„ Then he pulled his slouch hat lopsided an* began to 
stagger down, down the steps. First oft I made shore 
he was drunk. But I remembered he didn’t seem drunk 
before. It was some queer. So 1 watched that young 
man. 

“He reeled around the room Eke a fellow who was 
drunker v n a lord Nobody but me seemed to notice him. 
Then he began to stumble over pool-players an' get his 
68 


FORLORN RIVER 

fact tangled up in chairs an’ bump against tables. He got 
some pretty hard looks. He came round our way, an’ all of 
a sudden he seen us cowboys. He gave another start, 
like the one when he first seen Rojas, then he'made for 
us. I tipped Jim off that somethin’ was doin’. 

“When he got close he straightened up, put back his 
slouch hat, an’ looked at us. Then I saw his face. It 
sorta electrified yours truly. It was white, with veins 
standin’ out an’ eyes flamin’—a face of fury. I was 
plumb amazed, didn’t know what to think. Then this 
queer young man shot some cool, polite words at me an’ 
Jim. 

“He was only bluffin’ at bein’ drunk—he meant to rush 
Rojas, to start a rough house. The bandit was after a 
girl. This girl was in the hotel, an’ she was the sweet¬ 
heart of a soldier, the young fellow’s friend. The hotel 
was watched by Rojas’s guards, an’ the plan was to make 
a fuss an’ get the girl away in the excitement. Well, 
Jim an’ me got a hint of our bein’ Americans—that cow¬ 
boys generally had a name for loyalty to women. Then 
this amazin’ chap—you can’t imagine how scornful—said 
for me an’ Jim to watch him. 

“Before I could catch my breath an’ figger out what he 
meant by ‘rush’ an’ ‘rough house’ he had knocked over 
a table an’ crowded some Greaser half off the map. One 
little funny man leaped up like a wild monkey an’ began 
to screech. An’ in another second he was in the air up¬ 
side down. When he lit, he laid there. Then, quicker’n 
I can tell you, the young man dove at Rojas. Like a mad 
steer on the rampage he charged Rojas an’ his men. The 
whole outfit went down—smash! I figgered then what 
‘rush’ meant. The young fellow came up out of the pile 
with Rojas, an’ just like I’d sling an empty sack along 
the floor he sent the bandit. But swift as that went he was 
on top of Rojas before the chairs an’ tables had stopped 
rollin’. 

“I woke up then, an’ made for the center of the room. 

69 


DESERT GOLD 


Jim with me I began to shoot out the lamps. Jim 
fchrowed his guns on the crazy rebels,, an 6 I was afraid 
fchere’d be blood spilled before I could get the room dark. 
Bein’ shore busy, I lost sight of the young fellow for a 
second or so, an* when I got an eye free for him I seen a 
Greaser about to knife him. Think I was some considerate 
of the Greaser by only shoo tin" his arm off. Then Ii 
cracked the last Samp, an’ in the hullabaloo me an 5 Jim 
vamoosed 

“We made tracks for our hosses an* packs, an" was 
v. it tin* the San Felipe road when we ran right plumb into 
tiie young man. Well, he said his name was Gale—Dick 
Gale, The girl was with him safe an* well; but her 
sweetheart, the soldier, bein’ away without leave, had to 
go back sudden. There shore was some trouble, for Jim 
an* me heard sbootin*. Gale said he had no money, no 
friends, was a stranger in a desert country; an* he was 
distracted to know how to help the girl. So me an* Jim 
started off with them for San Felipe* got switched, an* 
then we headed for the Rio Forlorn, ” 

“Oh. I think he was perfectly splendid!” exclaimed the 
girl 

“ Shore he was. Only, Nell, you can’t lay no daim to 
bein 5 the original discoverer of that facto” 

“But, Laddy, you haven’t told me what he looks like/’ 
At this juncture Dick Gale felt it absolutely impossible 
for him to play the eavesdropper any longer. Quietly 
he rolled out of bed. The voices still sounded dose out¬ 
ride, and it was only by effort that he kept from further 
listening, Belding’s kindly interest, Daddy’s blunt and 
sincere cowboy eulogy, the girl’s sweet eagerness and 
praise—these warmed Gale’s heart. He had Men among 
simple people, into whose lives the advent of an unknown 
man was welcome. He found himself in a singularly 
agitated mood. The excitement, the thrill, the difference 
felt in himself, experienced the preceding night, had ex¬ 
tended on into his present. And the possibilities suggested 
7o 


FORLORN RIVER 

by the conversation he had unwittingly overheard added 
sufficiently to the other feelings to put him into a peculiar¬ 
ly receptive state of mind. He was wild to be one of 
Belding’s rangers. The idea of riding a horse in the open 
desert, with a dangerous duty to perform, seemed to strike 
him with an appealing force. Something within him went 
out to the cowboys, to this blunt and kind Belding. He 
was afraia to meet the girl. If every man who came along 
fell in love with this sweet-voiced Nell, then what hope 
had he to escape—-now, when his whole inner awakening 
betokened a change of spirit, hope, a finding of real worth, 
real good, real power in himself? He did not understand 
wholly; yet he felt ready to ride, to fight, to love the 
desert, to love these outdoor men, to love a woman. 
That beautiful Spanish girl had spoken to something dead 
in him, and it had quickened to life. The sweet voice 
of an audacious, unseen girl warned liim that presently 
a still more wonderful thing would happen to him. 

Gale imagined he made noise enough as he clumsily 
pulled on his boots; yet the voices, split by a merry laugh, 
kept on murmuring outside the door. It was awkward 
for him, having only one hand available to lace up his 
boots. He looked out of the window. Evidently this 
was at the end of the house. There was a flagstone walk, 
beside which ran a ditch full of swift, muddy water. It 
made a pleasant sound. There were trees strange of form 
and color to him. He heard bees, birds, chickens, saw 
the red of roses and green of grass. Then he saw, close 
to the wall, a*tub full of water, and a bench upon which 
lay basin, soap, towel, comb, and brush. The window was 
also a door, for under it there was a step. 

Gale hesitated a moment, then went out. He stepped 
naturally, hoping and expecting that the cowboys would 
hear him. But nobody came. Awkwardly, with left 
hand, he washed his face. Upon a nail in the wall hung 
a little mirror, by the aid of which Dick combed and 
brushed his hair. He imagined he looked a most hag- 


DESERT GOLD 


gard wretch. With that he faced forward, meaning to 
go round the comer of the house to greet the cowboys 
and these new-found friends. 

Dick had taken but one step when he was halted by 
laughter and the patter of light feet. 

From close around the comer pealed out that sweet 
voice. “Dad, you’ll have your wish, and mama will be 
wild!” 

Dick saw a little foot sweep into view, a white dress, 
then the swiftly moving form of a girl. She was looking 
backward. * x 

“Dad, I shall fall in love with your new ranger. I 
will—I have—” 

Then she plumped squarely into Dick’s arms. 

She started back violently. 

Dick saw a fair face and dark-blue, audaciously flash¬ 
ing eyes. Swift as lightning their expression changed to 
surprise, fear, wonder. For an instant they were level 
with Dick’s grave questioning. Suddenly, sweetly, she 
blushed. 

“Qh*h!” she faltered 

Then the blush turned to a scarlet fee. She whirled 
past him, and like a white gleam was gone. 

Dick became conscious of the quickened beating of his 
heart. He experienced a singular exhilaration. That 
moment had been the one for which he bad been ripe, 
the event upon which strange circumstances had been 
rushing him. 

With a couple of strides he turned the comer. Laddy 
and Lash were there talking to a man of burly form. 
Seen by day, both cowboys were gray-haired, red'&kinned, 
and weather-beaten, with lean, sharp features, and gray 
eyes so much alike that they might have been brothers. 

“Hello, there’s the young fellow,” spoke up the burly 
man. “Mr. Gale, I’m glad to meet you. My name’s 
Belding.” 

His greeting was as warm as his handclasp was long and 
7 * 



FORLORN RIVER 


hard. Gale saw a heavy man of medium height. His 
head was large and covered with grizzled locks. He wore 
a short-cropped mustache and chin beard. His skin was 
brown, and his dark eyes beamed with a genial light. 

The cowboys were as cordial as if Dick had been their 
friend for years. 

“Young man, did you run into anything as you came 
out?” asked Belding, with twinkling eyes. 

“Why, yes; I met something white and swift dying 
by,” replied Dick. 

“Did she see you?” asked Laddy. 

“I think so; but she didn’t wait for me to introduce 
myself.” 

“That was Nell Burton, my girl—step-daughter, I 
should say,” said Belding. “She’s sure some whirlwind, 
as Laddy calls her. Come, let’s go in and meet the wife.” 

The house was long, like a barracks, with porch extend¬ 
ing all the way, and doors every dozen paces. When 
Dick was ushered into a sitting-room, he was amazed at 
the light and comfort. This room had two big windows 
and a door opening into a patio, where there were luxuriant 
grass, roses in bloom, and flowering trees. He heard a 
slow splashing of water. 

In Mrs. Belding, Gale found a woman of noble propor¬ 
tions and striking appearance. Her hair was white. She 
had a strong, serious, well-lined face that bore haunting 
evidences of past beauty. The gaze she bent upon him 
was almost piercing in its intensity. Her greeting, which 
seemed to Dick rather slow in coming, was kind though 
not cordial. Gale’s first thought, after he had thanked 
these good people for their hospitality, was to inquire 
about Mercedes. He was informed that the Spanish girl 
had awakened with a considerable fever and nervousness. 
When, however, her anxiety had been allayed and her 
thirst relieved, she had fallen asleep again. Mrs. Belding 
said the girl had suffered no great hardship, other than 
mental, and would very soon be rested and well. 

73 


DESERT GOLD 

Isjow, oale, said Belding, when his wife had excused 
aerself to get supper, ‘‘the boys, Jim and Laddy, told me 
about you and the mix-up at Casita. Ill be glad to take 
care of the girl till it’s safe for your soldier friend to get 
her out of the country. That won’t be very soon, don’t 
mistake me. ... I don’t want to seem over-curious about 
*~° u ~ Ladd ^ has interested me in you—and straight out 
i d like to know what you propose to do now.” 

I haven t any plans,” replied Dick; and, taking the 
moment as propitious, he decided to speak frankly 
concerning himself. “I just drifted down here. My 
home is in Chicago. When I left school some years ago 
I m twenty-five now—I went to work for my father, 
tle s—ne has business interests there. I tried ail kinds 
of inside jobs. I couldn’t please my father. I vuess I 
put no real heart in my work. The fact was f didn’t 
know how to work. The governor and I didn’t exactly 
quarrel; but ne hurt my feelings, and I quit. Six months 
or more ago I came West, and have knocked about from 
Wyoming southwest to the border. I tried to find con¬ 
genial worK, but nothing came my way. To tell von 
franHy Mr. fielding, I suppose I WnuTch care' l 
bekeve, though, that all the time I didn't know what I 
wanted. I ve learned—well, just lately—” 

‘‘What do you want to do?” interposed Belding. 

I want a man’s job. I want to do things with mv 
hands. I want action. I want to be outdoors ” y 
Belding nodded his head as if he understood that and 

w “* ””*■ ’ weni 

it yfXJwr 1 ® w ,Eain -“ <*“ <« 

Mr. Belding, there’s nothing shadv in my past The 
governor would be glad to have me home Tha’s the' 
only consolation I’ve got. But I’m not going £ 

^et'hii.” 011 ' 6 a tramp - *** it>S «P to ™ to dc 


74 


FORLORN RIVER 




“How’d you like to be a border ranger?’* asked BeM- 
ing, laying a hand on Dick’s knee. “ Part of my job here 
is United States Inspector of Immigration. I’ve got that 
boundary line to patrol—to keep out Chinks and Japs. 
This/evolution lias added complications, and I'm looking 
for smugglers and raiders here any day. You’ll not be 
hired by the U. S. You’ll simply be my ranger, same as 
Laddy and Jim, who have promised to work for me. 
I’ll pay you well, give you a room here, furnish everything 
down to guns, and the finest horse you ever saw in your 
life. Your job won’t be safe and healthy, sometimes, 
but it ’ll be a man’s job—don’t mistake me! You can 
gamble on having things to do outdoors. Now, what do 
you say?” 

“I accept, and I thank you—I can’t say how much,” 
replied Gate, earnestly. 

“Good! That’s settled. Let’s go out and tell Laddy 
and Jim.” 

Both boys expressed satisfaction at the turn of affairs, 
and then with Belding they set out to take Ode around 
the ranch. The house and several outbuildings were 
constructed cf adobe, which, according to Belding, re¬ 
tained the summer heat on into winter, and the winter 
cold on into summer. These gray-red mud habitations 
were hideous to look at, and this fact, perhaps, made their 
really comfortable interiors more vividly a contrast. 
The wide grounds were covered with luxuriant grass and 
flowers and different kinds of trees. Gale s interest ied 
him to ask about fig trees and pomegranates, and es¬ 
pecially about a beautiful specimen that Belding called 
palo verde. 

Belding explained that the luxuriance of this.desert 
place was owing to a few springs and the dammed-up 
waters of the Rio Forlorn. Before he had come to the 
oasis it had been inhabited by a Papago Indian tribe and 
a few peon families. The oasis lay in an arroyo a mile 
wide, and sloped southwest for some ten miles or more, 
75 


DESERT GOLD 

The river went dry most of the year; but enough water 
was stored in flood season to irrigate the gardens and 
alfalfa fields. 

“I’ve got one never-failing spring on my place,” said 
Belding. “Fine, sweet water! You know what that 
means in the desert. I like this oasis. The longer I live 
here the better I like it. There’s not a spot in southern 
Arizona that 11 compare with this valley for water or 
grass or wood. It’s beautiful and healthy. Forlorn and 
lonely, yes, especially for women like my wife and Nell; 
but I like it. . . . And between you and me, boys, I’ve 
got something up my sleeve. There’s gold dust in the 
arroyos, and there’s mineral up in the mountains. If we 
only had water! This hamlet has steadily grown since I 
took up a station here. Why, Casita is no place beside 
Forlorn River. Pretty soon the Southern Pacific will 
shoot a railroad branch out here. There are possibilities, 
and I want you boys to .stay with me and get in on the 
ground floor. I wish this rebel war was over. . Well 
here are the corrals and the fields. Gale, take a look 
at that bunch of horses!” ^ 

Belding’s last remark was made as he led his companions 
out of shady gardens into the open. Gale saw an adobe 
shed and a huge pen fenced by strangely twisted and con- 
torted branches or trunks of mesquite, and, beyond these 
wide, flat fields, green—a dark, rich green—and dotted 
with beautiful horses. There were whites and blacks and 
bays and grays. In his admiration Gale searched his 
memory to see M he could remember the like of these 
magnificent animals, and had to admit that the only ones 
he could compare with them were the Arabian steeds. 

kvery rancher loves his horses, ’’ said Belding. *‘ When 
I was in the Panhandle I had some fine stock. But 
these are Mexican. They came from Durango, where 
they were bred. Mexican horses axe the finest in the 
world, bar none.” 

“Shore I reckon I savvy why you don’t sleep nights,” 
76 


FORLORN RIVER 

drawled Laddy. “I see a Greaser out there—no, it's an 
Indian.” 

“That’s my Papago herdsman. I keep watch over the 
horses now day and night. Lord, how I’d hate to have 
Rojas or Salazar—any of those bandit rebels—find my 
horses!. . . Gale, can you ride?” 

Dick modestly replied that he could, according to the 
Eastern id ek of horsemanship. 

“You don’t need to be half horse to ride one of that 
bunch. But over there in the other field I’ve iron-jawed 
bronchos I wouldn’t want you to tackle—except to see 
the fun. I’ve an outlaw I’ll gamble even Laddy can’t 
ride.” 

“So. How much ’ll you gamble?” asked Laddy, in¬ 
stantly. 

The ringing of a bell, which Belding said was a call to 
supper, turned the men back toward the house. Facing 
that way, Gale saw dark, beetling ridges rising from the 
oasis and leading up to bare, black mountains. He had 
heard Belding call them No Name Mountains, and some¬ 
how the appellation suited those lofty, mysterious, frown¬ 
ing peaks. 

It was not until they reached the house and were about 
to go in that Belding chanced to discover Gale’s crippled 
hand. 

“What an awful hand!” he exclaimed. “Where the 
devil did you get that?” 

“I stove in my knuckles on Rojas,” replied Dick. 

“You did that in one punch? Say, I’m glad it wasn’t 
Xne you hit! Why didn’t you tell me? That’s a bad 
hand. Those cuts are full of dirt and sand. Inflamma¬ 
tion’s setting in. It’s got to be dressed. Nell!’’ he called. 

There was no answer. He called again, louder. 

“Mother, where’s the girl?” 

“She’s there in the dining-room,” replied Mrs, Belding. 

“Did she hear me?” he inquired, impatiently. 

“Of course.” 


77 


DESERT GOLD 

“Nell!” roared Belding. 

Ihis brought results. Dick saw a glimpse of golden 
lair and a white dress in. the door. But they were not 
visible longer than a second. 

“Dad, what’s the matter?” asked a voice that was 
still as sweet as formerly, but now rather small and con¬ 
strained. 

Bring the antiseptics, cotton, bandages—and things 
out here. Hurry now.” 

Beiding fetched a pail of water and a basin from the 
kitchen. His wife followed him out, and, upon seeing 
Dick s hand, was all solicitude. Then Dick heard light 
quick footsteps, but he did not look up. 

Neil, this is Mr. Gale—Dick Gale, who came with the 
boys last night,” said Beiding. “He’s got an awful hand. 
Got it punching that greaser Rojas, I want you to dress 
it. . . . Gale, this is my step-daughter, Nell Burton, of 
whom I spoke. She’s some good when there’s somebody 
sick or hurt. Shove out your fist, my boy, and let her 
get at it. Supper’s nearly ready.” 

Dick felt that same strange, quickening heart throb, 
yet he had never been cooler in his life. More than any¬ 
thing else in the world he wanted to look at Nell Burton- 
however, divining that the situation might be embarrass- 
mg to her, he refrained from looking up. She began to 
badie lus injured knuckles. He noted the softness, the 
deftness of her touch, and then it seemed her fingers were 
not quite as steady as they might have been. Still, in a 
moment they appeared to become surer in their work c 
- e had beautiful hands, not too large, though certainly 
not sman, and they were strong, brown, supple. He oh- 

i neX n J ith f teaI * lly ’ upward-stealing glance, that 
she hat. ruJed up her sieves, exposing fine, round arms 
graceful in une. Her skin was brown—no, it was more 
gold than crown. It had a wonderful clear tint. Dick 
s toicaJl y lowered his eyes then, putting off as long as po S . 
sible the alluring moment when he was to look into her 
7 *> 


FORLORN RIVER 


face. That would be a fateful moment. He played with 
a certain strange joy of anticipation. When, however, 
she sat down beside him and rested his injured hand in 
her lap as she cut bandages, she was so thrillingly near 
that he yielded to an irrepressible desire to look up. She 
had a sweet, fair face warmly tinted with that same 
healthy golden-brown sunburn. Her hair was light gold 
and abundant, a waving mass. Her eyes were shaded by 
long, downcast lashes, yet through them he caught a 
gleam of blue. 

Despite the stir within him, Gale, seeing she was now 
absorbed in her task, critically studied her with a second 
closer gaze. She was a sweet, wholesome, joyous, pretty 
girl. 

‘‘Shore it musta hurt?” inquired Laddy, who sat an 
interested spectator. 

“Yes, I confess it did,” replied Dick, slowly, with his 
eyes on Nell’s face. “But I didn’t mind.” 

The girl’s lashes swept up swiftly in surprise. She had 
taken his words literally. But the dark-blue eyes met his 
for only a fleeting second. Then the warm tint in her 
cheeks turned as red as her lips. Hurriedly she finished 
tying the bandage and rose to her feet. 

“I thank you,” said Gale, also rising. 

With that Belding appeared in the doorway, and, find¬ 
ing the operation concluded, called them in to supper. 
Dick had the use of only one arm, and he certainly was 
keenly aware of the shy, silent girl across the table; but 
in spite of these considerable handicaps he eclipsed both 
hungry cowboys in the assault upon Mrs. Belding s 
bounteous supper. Belding talked, the cowboys talked 
more or less, Mrs. Belding put in a word now and then, 
and Dick managed to find brief intervals when it "was 
possible for him to say yes or no. He observed gratefully 
that no one round the table seemed to be aware of his 
enormous appetite. 

After supper, having a favorable opportunity when for 
79 


DESERT GOLD 

& moment, no one was at hand, Dick went out through the 
yard, -past the gardens and fields, and climbed the first 
knoll. From that vantage point he looked out over the 
little hamlet, somewhat to his right, and was surprised 
at its extent, its considerable number of adobe houses 
The overhanging mountains, ragged and darkening, a great 
heave of splintered, sundered rock, rather chilled and 
affronted him. 

Westward the setting sun gilded a spiked, frost-colored 
limitless expanse of desert. It awed Gale. Everywhere 
rose blunt, broken ranges or isolated groups of moun- 
tams Yet the desert stretched away down between 
ana beyond them. When the sun set and Gale could rot 
see so tar, he felt a relief. 

That grand and austere attraction of distance gone, he 
saw the desert nearer at hand—the valley at his feet 
What a strange gray, somber place! There was a lighter 
strip of gray winding down between darker hues. This 
he realized presently was the river bed, and he saw how 
the pools of water narrowed and diminished in size till 
they .ost themselves in gray sand. This was the rainy 
season, near its end, and here a little river struggled hope¬ 
lessly forlornly to live in the desert. He received^ 
potent impression of the nature of that blasted age-worn 
waste which he had divined was to give him strength and 
work and love. 




A DESERT ROSE 

B ELDING assigned Dick to a little room which had 
no windows but two doors, one opening into the 
patio, the other into the yard on the west side of the 
house. It contained only the barest necessities for com¬ 
fort. Dick mentioned the baggage he had left in the hotel 
at Casita, and it was Belding’s opinion that to try to 
recover this property would be rather risky; on the 
moment Richard Gale was probably not popular with the 
Mexicans at Casita. So Dick bade good-by to fine suits 
of clothes and linen with a feeling that, as he had said 
farewell to an idle and useless past, it was just as well 
not to have any old luxuries as reminders. As he pos¬ 
sessed, however, not a thing save the clothes on his back, 
and not even a handkerchief, he expressed regret that he 
had come to Forlorn River a beggar. 

“Beggar hell!” exploded Belding, with his eyes snap¬ 
ping in the lamplight. “Money’s the last thing we think 
of out here. All the same, Gale, if you stick you’ll be 
rich.” 

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” replied Dick, thoughtfully. 
But he was not thinking of material wealth. Then, as 
he viewed his stained and tom shirt, he laughed and said; 
“ Belding, while I’m getting rich I’d like to have some 
respectable clothes.” 

“We’ve a little Mex store in town, and what you can’t 
get there the women folks will make for you.” 

When Dick lay down he was dully conscious of pain 
and headache, that he did not feel well. Despite this, 
, Si 


DESERT GOLD 


and a mind thronging with memories and anticipations, 
ue succumbed to weariness and soon fell asleep. 

It was light when he awoke, but a strange brightness 
seen through what seemed blurred eyes. A moment 
passed before his mind worked clearly, and then he had 
to make an effort to think. He was dizzy. When he 
essayed to lift his right arm, an excruciating pain made 
him desist. Then he discovered that his arm was badly 
swollen, and the hand had burst its bandages. The in¬ 
jured member was red, angry, inflamed, and twice its 
normal size. He felt hot all over, and a raging headache 
consumed him. 


Belding came stamping into the room. 

“Hello, Dick. Do you know it’s late? How’s the 
busted fist this morning?” 

Dick tried to sit up, but his effort was a failure. He 
got about half up, then felt himself weakly slidin" back. 

“I guess—I’m pretty sick,” he said. 

He saw Belding lean over him, feel his face, and speak 
and then everything seemed to drift; not into darkness’ 
but into some region where he had dim perceptions of 
gjay moving tilings, and of voices that were remote, 
then there came an interval when all was blank. He 
knew, not whether it was one of minutes or hours, but 
after it he had a clearer mind. He slept, awakened during 
night-time, and slept again. When he again unclosed his 
li r0< ?™ was sunn y> and cool with a fragrant breeze 
that blew through the open door. Dick felt better- but 
he had no particular desire to move or talk or eat. He 
had, however, a burning thirst. Mrs. Belding visited him 
°V \ . husband in several times, and once Nell 

£ £ S£ lessly - Even this last event *0 


nCX ^ ^ le was ver y niuch improved. 

Ve ve been afraid of blood poisoning,” said Belding. 
but my wife thinks the danger’s past. Ycu’JJ brve to 
rest that arm for a while.” 


82 


A DESERT ROSE 

Ladd and Jim came peeping in at the door. 

“ Come in, boys. He can have company—the mue the 
better—if it ’il keep him content. He mustn't move, 
that's all.” 

The cowboys entered, slow, easy, cool, kind-voiced. 

“Shore it's tough," said Ladd, after he had greeted 
Dick. “You look used up." 

Jim Lash wagged his half-bald, sunburned head. 
“Musta been more’n tough for Rojas." 

“Gale, Laddy tells me one of our neighbors, fellow 
named Carter, is going to Casita," put in Belding. “Here's 
a chance to get word to your friend the soldier." 

“Oh, that will be fine!" exclaimed Dick. “I declare 
I’d forgotten Thorne. . . . How is Miss Castaneda? I 
hope—" 

“She’s all right, Gale. Been up and around the patio 
for two days. Like all the Spanish—-the real thing—she’s 
made of Damascus steel. We’ve been getting acquainted. 
She and Nell made friends at once. I’ll call them in." 

He closed the door leading out into the yard, explaining 
that he did not want to take chances of Mercedes's pres¬ 
ence becoming known to neighbors. Then he went to 
the patio and called. 

Both girls came in, Mercedes leading. Like Nell, she 
wore white, and she had a red rose in her hand. Dick 
would scarcely have recognized anything about her ex¬ 
cept her eyes and the way she carried her little head., 
and her beauty burst upon him strange and anew. She 
was swift, impulsive in her movements to reach his .side. 

“Senor, I am so sorry you were ill—so happy you are 
better." 

Dick greeted her, offering his left hand, gravely apologiz¬ 
ing for the fact that, owing to a late infirmity, he could not 
offer the right. Her smile exquisitely combined sympathy, 
gratitude, admiration. Then Dick spoke to Nell, like¬ 
wise offering his hand, which she took shyly. Her reply 
was a murmured, unintelligible one; but her eyes were 

Js 


DESERT GOLD 


glad, and the tint in her cheeks threatened to rival the 
hue of the rose she carried. 

Everybody chatted then, except Nell, who had appar¬ 
ently lost her voice. Presently Dick remembered to 
speak of the matter of getting news to Theme. 

“Senor, may I write to him? Will some one take a 
letter?... I shall hear from him!” she said; and her white 
hands emphasized her words. 

“Assuredly. I guess poor Thome is almost crazy. 
I'll write to him-No, I can’t with this crippled hand.” 

“That ’ll be all right, Gale,” said Belding. “Nell will 
write for you. She writes all my letters.” 

So Belding arranged it; and Mercedes flew away.to her 
room to write, while Nell fetched pen and paper and seated 
herself beside Gale’s bed to take his dictation. 

What with watching Nell and trying to catch her 
glance, and listening to Belding’s talk with the cowboys, 
Dick was hard put to it to dictate any kind of a creditable 
letter. Nell met his gaze .once, then no more. The 
color came and went in her cheeks, and sometimes, when 
he told her to write so and so, there was a demure smile 
on her lips. She was laughing at him. And Belding was 
talking over the risks involved in a trip to Casita. 

“Shore I’ll ride in with the letters,” Ladd said. 

“No you won’t,” replied Belding. “That bandit out¬ 
fit will be laying for you.” 

“Well, I reckon if they was I wouldn’t be oncommon 
grieved.” 

“I’ll tell you, boys, I’ll ride in myself with Carter. 
There’s business I can see to, and I’m curious to know 
what the rebels are doing. Laddy, keep one eye open 
while I’m gone. See the horses are locked up. . . . Gale, 
I’m going to Casita myself. Ought to get back tc* 
morrow some time. I’ll be ready to start in an hour. 
Have your letter ready. And say—if you want to write 
home it’s a chance. Sometimes we don’t go to the P. O. 
in a month.” 

84 


A DESERT ROSE 


He tramped out, followed by the tall cowboys, and 
then Dick was enabled to bring his letter to a close. 
Mercedes came back, and her eyes were shining. Dick 
imagined a letter received from her would be something 
of an event for a fellow. Then, remembering Belding’s 
suggestion, he decided to profit by it. 

“May I trouble you to write another for me?” asked 
Dick, as he received the letter from Nell. 

“It’s no trouble, I’m sure—I’d be pleased,” she replied. 

That was altogether a wonderful speech of hers, Dick 
thought, because the words were the first coherent ones 
she had spoken to him. 

“May I stay?” asked Mercedes, smiling. 

“By all means,” he answered, and then he settled back 
and began. 

Presently Gale paused, partly because of genuine emo¬ 
tion, and stole a look from under his hand at Nell. She 
wrote swiftly, and her downcast face seemed to be softer 
in its expression of sweetness. If she had in the very 
least been drawn to him— But that was absurd—im¬ 
possible ! 

When Dick finished dictating, his eyes were upon Mer¬ 
cedes, who sat smilingly curious and sympathetic. How 
responsive she was! He heard the hasty scratch of Nell’s 
pen. He looked at Nell. Presently she rose, holding cut 
his letter. He was just in time to see a wave of red recede 
from her face. She gave him one swift gaze, unconscious, 
searching, then averted it and turned away. She left 
the room with Mercedes before he* could express his 
thanks. 

But that strange, speaking flash of eyes remained to 
haunt and torment Gale. It was indescribably sweet, 
and provocative of thoughts that he believed were wild 
without warrant. Something within him danced for very 
joy, and the next instant he was conscious of wistful doubt, 
a gravity that he could not understand. It dawned upon 
him that for the brief instant when Nell had met his gaze 
85 


DESERT GOLD 


she had lost her shyness. It was a woman’s questioning 
eyes that had pierced through him. 

During the rest of the day Gale was content to lie still 
on his bed thinking and dreaming, dozing at intervals, 
and watching the lights change upon the mountain peaks, 
feeling the warm, fragrant desert wind that blew in upon 
him. He seemed to have lost the faculty of estimating 
time. A long while, strong in its effect upon him, ap¬ 
peared to have passed since he had met Theme. He ac¬ 
cepted tilings as he felt them, and repudiated his intelli¬ 
gence. His old inquisitive habit of mind returned. Did 
he love Nell? Was he only attracted for the moment? 
What was the use of worrying about her or himself ? He 
refused to answer, and deliberately gave liimself up to 
dreams of her sweet face and of that last dark-blue glance. 

Next day he believed he was well enough to leave his 
room; but Mrs. Belding would not permit him to do so. 
She was kind, s®ft-handed, motherly, and she was always 
coming in to minister to his comfort. Tms attention was 
sincere, not in the least forced; yet Gale felt that the 
friendliness so manifest in the others of the household 
did not extend to her. He was conscious of something 
that a little thought persuaded him was antagonism. It 
surprised and hurt him. He had never been much of a 
success with girls and young married women, but their 
mothers and old people had generally been fond of him. 
Still, though Mrs. Belding’s hair was snow-white, she did 
not impress him as being old. He reflected that there 
might come a time when it would be desirable, far beyond 
any ground of every-day friendly kindliness, toJiave Mrs. 
Belding be well disposed toward him. So he thought 
about her, and pondered how to make her like him. It 
did not take very long for Dick to discover that he liked 
her. Her face, except when she smiled, was thoughtful 
an ^ sa ^* ^ seemed too strong, too intense, too 

nobly lined. It was a face to make one serious Like a 
haunting shadow, like a phantom of happier years, the 


A DESERT ROSE 

sweetness of Nell’s face was there, and infinitely more of 
beauty than had been transmitted to the daughter. Dick 
believed Mrs. Belding’s friendship and motherly love were 
worth much striving to win, entirely aside from any more 
selfish motive. He decided both would be hard to get. 
Often he felt her deep, penetrating gaze upon him; and, 
though this in no wise embarrassed him—for he had no 
shameful secrets of past or present—it showed him how 
useless it would be to try to conceal anything from her. 
Naturally, on first impulse, he wanted to hide his interest 
in the daughter; but he resolved to be absolutely frank 
and true, and through that win or lose. Moreover, if 
Mrs. Belding asked him any questions about his home, 
his family, his connections, he would not avoid direct and 
truthful answers. 

Toward evening Gale heard the tramp of horses and 
Belding’s hearty voice. Presently the rancher strode in 
upon Gale, shaking the gray dust from his broad shoulders 
and waving a letter. 

“Hello, Dick! Good news and bad!” he said, putting 
the letter in Dick’s hand. “Had no trouble finding your 
friend Thome. Looked like he’d been drunk for a week! 
Say, he nearly threw a fit. I never saw a fellow so wild 
with joy. He made sure you and Mercedes were lost in 
the desert. He wrote two letters which I brought. Don’c 
mistake me, boy, it was some fun with Mercedes just now. 
I teased her, wouldn’t give her the letter. You ought to 
have seen her eyes. If ever you see a black-and-white 
desert hawk swoop down upon a quail, then you’ll know 
how Mercedes pounced upon her letter. . . . Well, Casita 
is one hell of a place these days. I tried to get your 
baggage, and think I made a mistake. We’re going to see 
travel toward Forlorn River. The federal garrison got 
reinforcements from somewhere, and is holding out. 
There’s been fighting for three days. The rebels have 
a string of fiat railroad cars, all iron, and they ran this 
up within range of the barricades. They’ve got some 
7 87 


DESERT GOLD 


machine guns, and they’re going to lick the federals sure. 
There are dead soldiers in the ditches, Mexican non- 
combatants lying dead in the streets—and buzzards 
everywhere! It’s reported that Campo, the rebel leader,] 
is on the way up from Sinaloa, and Huerta, a federal gen J 
eral, is coming to relieve the garrison. I don’t take much 
stock in reports. But there’s hell in Casita, all right.”’ 

“Do you think we’ll have trouble out here?” asked 
Dick, excitedly. 

“Sure. v Some kind of trouble sooner or later,” replied 
Belding, gloomily. “Why, you can stand on my ranch 
and step over into Mexico. Laddy says we’ll lose horses 
and other stock in night raids. Jim Lash doesn’t look for 
any worse. But Jim isn’t as well acquainted with Greasers 
as I am. Anyway, my boy, as soon as you can hold a 
bridle and a gun you’ll be on the job, don’t mistake me.” 

“With Laddy and Jim?” asked Dick, trying to be cool. 

“Sure. With them and me, and by yourself.” 

Dick drew a deep breath, and even after Belding had 
departed he forgot for a moment about the letter in his 
hand. Then he unfolded the paper and read: 


Dear Dick,—Y ou've more than saved my life. To the end of 
my days you’ll be the one man to whom I owe everything. Words 
fail to express my feelings. 

This must be a brief note. Belding is waiting, and I used up most 
of the time writing to Mercedes. I like Belding. He was not un¬ 
known to me, though I never met or saw him before. You’ll be in¬ 
terested to learn that he’s the unadulterated article, the real Western 
goods. I’ve heard of some of his stunts, and they made my hair 
curl. Dick, your luck is staggering. The way Belding spoke of 
you was great. But you deserve it, old man. 

I’m leaving Mercedes in your charge, subject, of course, to advice 
from Belding. Take care of her, Dick, for my life is wrapped up in 
her. By all means keep her from being seen by Mexicans. We are 
sitting tight here—nothing doing. If some action doesn't come soon, 
it ’ll be darned strange. Things are centering this way. There’s 
scrapping right along, and people have begun to move. We’re still 
patrolling the line eastward of Casita. It '11 be impossible to keep any 
tab on the line west of Casita, for it’s too rough. That cactus desert 
.88 


A DESERT ROSE 

*5 awful. Cowboys or rangers with desert-bred horses might keep 
raiders and smugglers from crossing. But if cavalrymen could stand 
that waterless wilderness, which I doubt much, their horses would 
HmF under them. 

If things do quiet down before my commission expires. I'll get leave 
of_absence, run out to Forlorn River, marry my beautiful Spanish 
pnncess, and take her to a civilized country, where, I opine, every 
son of a gun who sees her will lose his head, and drive me mad. It’s 
my great luck, old pal, that you are a fellow who never seemed to 
care about pretty girls. So you won’t give me the double cross 
and run oflf with Mercedes—carry her off, like the villain in the play, 
I mean. 

That reminds me of Rojas. Oh, Dick, it was glorious! You didn’t 
do anything to the Dandy Rebel! Not at all! You merely caresses 
him—gently moved him to one side. Dick, harken to these glad 
words: Rojas is in the hospital. I was interested to inquire. He 
had a smashed finger, a dislocated collar bone, three broken ribs, and 
a fearful gash on his face. He’ll be in the hospital for a month. 
Dick, when I meet that pig-headed dad of yours I’m going to give him 
the surprise of his life. 

Send me a line whenever any one comes in from F. R., and inclose 
Mercedes's letter in yours. Take, care of her, Dick, and may the 
future hold in store for you some of the sweetness I know now! 

Faithfully yours, 

Thorne. 

9 "Dick reread the letter, then folded it and placed a 
tinder his pillow. 

‘‘Never cared for pretty girls, huh?” he soliloquized. 
“ George, I never saw any till I struck Southern Arizona I 
Guess I’d better make up for lost time.” 

While he was eating his supper, with appetite rapidly 
returning to normal, Ladd and Jim came in, bowing their 
tall heads to enter the door. Their friendly advances^ 
were singularly welcome to Gale, but he was still back-' 
ward. He allowed himself to show that he was glaJ tc 
see them, and he listened. Jim Lash had heard frotr 
Belding the result of the mauling given to Rojas by Dick. 
And Jim talked about what a grand thing that war. 
Ladd had a good deal to say about Belaing’s horses, i t 
took no keen judge of human nature to see that honb>s 
constituted Ladd’s ruling passion. 


DESERT GOLD 


“I’ve bad wimmen go back on me, but never no boss!’ 5 
declared Ladd, and manifestly that was a controlling 
truth with him. 

“Shore it’s a cinch Beldin’ is agoin’ to lose some of 
them bosses,” he said. “You can search me if I don’t 
think there’ll be more doin’ on the border here than 
along the Rio Grande. We’re just the same as on Greaser 
soil. Mebbe we don’t stand no such chance of bein’ 
shot up as we would across the line. But who’s goin’ to 
give up his hosses without a fight? Half the time when 
Beldin’s stock is out of the alfalfa it’s grazin’ over the 
dne. He thunks he’s careful about them hosses, but he 
ain’t.” 

“Look a-here, Laddy; you cain’t believe all you hear,” 
replied Jim, seriously. “I reckon we mightn’t have any 
trouble.” 

“Back up, Jim. Shore you’re standin’on your bridle. 

ain’t gom’ much on reports. Remember that American 
we met in Casita, the prospector who’d just gotten out of 
Sonora? He had some story, he had. Swore he’d killed 
seventeen Greasers breakin’ through the rebel line round 
vhe mine where he an’ other Americans were corralled. 
The next, day when I met him again, he was drunk, an’ 
then he told me he’d shot thirty Greasers. The chances 
are he did kill some. But reports are exaggerated. 
There are miners fightin’ for life down in Sonora,, you can 
gamble on that. An’ the truth is bad enough. Take 
\ R °i as?s harryin’ of the Senorita, for instance. Can you 
beat that? Shore, Jim, there’s more doin’ than the raid- 
in of a few hosses. An’ Forlorn River is goin’ to get 
hers!” 

another dawn found Gale so much recovered that he 
|md looked after himself, not, however, without con- 
tie difficulty and rather disheartening twinges of 

1 l e during the morning he heard the girls in the 
tend called to ask if he might join them. He re- 

I 90 

f 


A DESERT ROSE 


ceived one response, a mellow, “S/, senor.” It was no 
as much as he wanted, but considering that- it was enough , 
he went out. He had not as yet visited the patio, ant 
surprise and delight were in store for him. He found 
himself lost in a labyrinth of green and rose-i ordered 
walks. He strolled around, discovering that the patio 
was a courtyard, open at an end; but he failed to discore" 
the yotmg ladies. So he called again. The answer earn* * 
l from the center of the square. Alter stooping to get) 
under shrubs and wading through bushes he entered at/ 
open sandy circle, full of magnificent and murderous cactus 
plants, strange to him. On the other side, in the shade 
.of a beautiful tree, he found the girls, Mercedes sitting 
in a hammock, Nell upon a blanket. 

M What a beautiful tree!” he exclaimed. “I never saw 
one like that. What is it? 5 ’ 
jyi “ Palo verde replied Nell. 

“Senor, palo verde means ‘green tree,’” added Mercedes. 

This desert tree, which had struck Dick as so new arc 
strange and beautiful, was not striking on account ci 
size, for it was small, scarcely reaching higher than the 
roof; but rather because of its exquisite color of green, 
trunk and branch alike, and owing to the odd fact that 
it seemed not to possess leaves. All the tree from ground 
to tiny flat twigs was a soft polished green. It bore ncl 
thorns. 

Right then and there began Dick’s educa tion in desert 
growths; and he felt that even if he had not had such 
charming teachers he would still have been absorbed. 
7 or the patio was full of desert wonders. A twisting- 
trunked tree with full foliage of small gray leaVes Ndl 
called a mesquite. Then Dick remembered the name'; 
and now he saw where the desert got its pale-gray color./ 
A hugs 4 , lofty, fluted column of green was a saguaro , c i 
giant cactus. Another odd-shaped cactus, resembling 
the legs of an inverted devil-fish, bore the name, ccaiille . 
Each branch rose high and symmetrical, furnished with 


DESERT GOLD 

iharp blades that seemed to be at once leaves and thorns 
Yet another cactus interested Gale, and it looked like a 
huge, low barrel covered with green-ribbed cloth and long 
thorns, ihis was the bisnaga , or barrel cactus. Accord¬ 
ing to Nell and Mercedes, this plant was a happy exception 
to its desert neighbors, for it secreted water which had 
many times saved the lives of men. Last of the cacti to 
attract Gale, and the one to make him shiver, was a low 
plant, consisting of stem and many rounded protuber¬ 
ances of a frosty, steely white, and covered with long 
murderous spikes. From this plant the desert got its 
:rosty glitter. It was as stiff, as unyielding as steel, and 
aore the name choya. 

Dick’s enthusiasm was contagious, and his earnest de- 
-ire to learn was flattering to his teachers. When it came 
°° assim ilatmg Spanish, however, he did not appear to be 
so apt a pupil He managed, after many trials, to acquire 
^ buenos dias and “buenos tardes” and “senorita” and 
gracias , and a few other short terms. Dick was indeed 
c-ager to get a little smattering of Spanish, and perhaps 
he was not really quite so stupid as he pretended to be. 
it was delightful, to be taught by a beautiful Spaniard 
who was so gracious and intense and magnetic of per¬ 
sonality, and by a sweet American girl who moment by 
moment forgot her shyness. Gale wished to prolong the 

So that was the beginning of many afternoons in which 
f le ^™fd desert lore and Spanish verbs, and something 
itse that he dared not name. 

Neii Burton had never shown to Gale that daring side 
•n p er cha ; racter which had been so suggestively defined 
,n Beldmg s terse description and Ladd's encomiums, and 
:n her own audacious speech and merry laugh and flash- 
mg eye of that never-to-be-forgotten first meeting. She 
might have been an entirely different girl. But Gale 
PKnembered; and when the ice had been somewhat 
>roken between them, he was always trying to surprise 
0 ?. 


A DESERT ROSE 


her into her real self. There were moments that fairly 
made him tingle with expectation. Yet he saw little 
more than a ghost of her vivacity, and never a gleam of 
that individuality which Belding had called a devil. On 
the few occasions that Dick had been left alone with her 
in the patio Nell had grown suddenly unresponsive and 
restrained, or she had left him on some transparent pre 
text. On the last occasion Mercedes returned to find 
Dick staring disconsolately at the rose-bordered path, 
where Nell had evidently vanished. The Spanish girl 
was wonderful in her divination. 

“Senor Dick!” she cried. 

Dick looked at her, soberly nodded his head, and then 
he laughed. Mercedes had seen through him in one swift 
glance. Her white hand touched his in wordless sym- j 
pathy and thrilled him. This Spanish girl was all fire and 
passion and love. She understood him, she was his friend, 
she pledged him what he felt would be the most subtle 
and powerful influence. 

Little by little he learned details of Nell's varied life. 
She had lived in many places. As a child she remembered 
moving from town to town, of going to school among 
schoolmates whom she never had time to know. Lawrence, 
Kansas, where she studied for several years, was the later 
exception to this changeful nature of her schooling. Then 
she moved to Stillwater, Oklahoma, from there to Austin, 
iTexas, and on to Waco, where her mother met and married 
Belding. They lived in New Mexico awhile, in Tucson, 
Arizona, in Douglas, and finally had come to lonely For¬ 
lorn River. 

“Mother could never live in one place any length of 
time,” said Nell. “And since we’ve been in the South¬ 
west she has never ceased trying to find some trace of her 
father. He was last heard of in Nogales fourteen years 
ago. She thinks grandfather was lost in the Sonora 
Desert. . . . And every place we go is worse. Oh, I love 
the desert. But I’d like to go back to Lawrence—or to 
.93 


DESERT GOLD 

J se-8 Chicago or New York—some of the places Mr. Gale 
I speaks of. ... I remember the college at Lawrence, though 
I was only twelve. I saw races—and once real football. 
| Since then I’ve read magazines and papers about big foot¬ 
ball games, and I was always fascinated. . . . Mr. Gale, of 
| course, you’ve seen games?” 

“Yes, a few,” replied Dick; and he laughed a little c 
It was on his lips then to tell her about some of the famous 
games in which he had participated. But he refrained 
from exploiting himself. There was little, however, of 
the color and sound and cheer, of the violent action and 
rush and battle incidental to a big college football game 
that he did not succeed in making Mercedes and Nell feel 
just as if they had been there. They hung breathless and 
wide-eyed upon his words. 

Some one else was present at the latter part of Dick’s 
narrative. The moment he became aware of Mrs. Beld- 
presence he remembered fancying he had heard her 
call, and now he was certain she had done so. Mercedes 
and. Nell, however, had been and still were oblivious to 
everything except Dick’s recital. He saw Mrs. Belding 
cast a strange, intent glance upon Nell, then turn and go 
silently through the patio. Dick concluded his talk, but 
the brilliant beginning was not sustained. 

Dick was haunted by the strange expression he had 
caught on Mrs. Belding’s face, especially the look in her 
ryes. It had been one of repressed pain liberated in a 
flash of certainty, 'fhe mother had seen just as quickly 
as Mercedes how far he had gone on the road of love. 
Perhaps she had seen more—even more than he dared 
hope. The incident roused Gale. He could not under¬ 
stand Mrs. Belding, nor why that look of hers, that 
seeming baffled, hopeless look of a woman who saw the 
inevitable forces of life and could not thwart them, should 
cause him perplexity and distress. He wanted to go to her 
nd tell her how he felt about Nell, but fear of absolute 
extraction of .ais hopes held him back. He would wait. 
/ 94 . 




A DESERT kl„ 

Nevertheless, an instinct that was perhaps akin U .> K 
preservation prompted him to want to let Nell know ’ 
state of his mind. Words crowded his brain seeking ut 
ance. Who and what he was, how he loved her, the w • 
he expected to take up soon, his longings, hopes, and p] 

—there was all this and more. But something chec 
him. And the repression made him so thoughtful d j 

quiet, even melancholy, that he went outdoors to trj :< [ 
throw off the mood. The sun was yet high, and a dazz * 
white light enveloped valleys and peaks. He felt 1 
the wonderful sunshine was the dominant feature of i 
arid region. It was like white gold. It had burned 
color in a face he knew. It was going to warm his bl 
and brown his skin. A hot, languid breeze, so dry i 
he felt his lips shrink with its contact, came from 
desert; and it seemed to smell of wide-open, untaii 
places where sand blew and strange, pungent plants | 
a bitter-sweet tang to the air. 

When he returned to the house, some hours later, 
room had been put in order. In the middle of the v, 
coverlet on his table lay a fresh red rose. Nell had droj 
it there. Dick picked it up, feeling a throb in his br< 

It was a bud iust beginning to open, to show betwee: 
petals a dark-red, unfolding heart. How fragrant it 
how exquisitely delicate, how beautiful its inner hu 
led, deep and dark, the crimson of life blood l 

Had Nell left it there by accident or by intent? 
it merely kindness or a girl’s subtlety? Was it a mes 
couched elusively, a symbol, a hope in a half-blown d< 
rose? 




VI 


THE YAQUI 

HOWARD evening of a lowering December day, some 
I fifty miles west of Forlorn River, a horseman rode 
along an old. dimly defined trail From time to time he 
halted to study the lay of the land ahead. It was bare, 
somber, ridgy desert, covered with dun-colored greasewood 
and stunted prickly pear. Distant mountains hemmed 
in the valley, raising black spurs above the round lomas 
and the square-walled mesas. 

This lonely horseman bestrode a steed of magnificent 
did, perfectly white except for a dark bar of color run- 
ig down the noble head from ears to nose. Sweats 
c ked dust stained the long flanks. The horse had been 
r. aning. His mane and tail were laced and knotted to 
ep their length out of reach of grasping cactus and 
brush. Clumsy home-made leather shields covered the 
front of his forelegs and ran up well, to his wide breast, 
what otherwise would have been muscular symmetry of 
limb was marred by many a scar and many a lump. He 
was lean, gaunt, worn, a huge machine of muscle and bone* 
beautiful only in head and mane, a weight-carrier, a horse 
strong and fierce like the desert that had bred him. 

The rider fitted the horse as he fitted the saddle. He 
was a yotiug man of exceedingly powerful physique, wide¬ 
shouldered, long-armed, big-legged. His lean face, where 
it was not red, blistered and peeling, was the hue of bronze,. 
He had a dark eye, a falcon gaze, roving and keen. His 
vw was prominent and set, mastiff-like; his lips were 
picrn. It was youth with its softness not yet quite burned 


THE YAQUI 

thought. A thousand sweet faces glowed in the pink and 
white ashes of his campfire, the faces of other sweet¬ 
hearts or wives that had gleamed for other men. Gale 
was happy in his fhought of Nell, for something, when he 
was alone this way in the wilderness, told him she was 
near him, she thought of him, she loved him. But there 
were many men alone on that vast southwestern plateau, 

. and when they saw dream faces, surely for some it was 
a fleeting flash, a gleam soon gone, like the hope and the 
r name and the happiness that had been and was now no 
more. Often Gale thought of those hundreds of desert 
travelers, prospectors, wanderers who had ventured down 
the Camino del Diablo, never to be heard of again. 
Belding had told him of that most terrible of all desert 
frails—a trail cf shifting sands. Lash had traversed it, 
and brought back stories of buried waterholes, of bones 
bleaching white in the sun, of gold mines as lost as were 
the prospectors who had sought them, of the merciless 
Yaqui and his hatred for the Mexican. Gale thought of 
this trail and the men who had camped along it. For 
many there had been one night, one campfire that had 
been the last. This idea seemed to creep in out of the 
darkness, the loneliness, the silence, and to find a place 
in Gale’s mind, so that it had strange fascination for him. 
He knew now as he had never dreamed before how men 
drifted into the desert, leaving behind graves, wrecked 
homes, ruined lives, lost wives and sweethearts. And for 
every wanderer every campfire had a phantom face. 
Gale measured the agony of these men at their last camp¬ 
fire by the joy and promise he traced in the ruddy heart 
of his own. 

By and by Gale remembered what he was waiting 
for; and, getting up, he took the halter and went out to 
find Blanco Sol. It was pitch-dark now, and Gale could 
not see a rod ahead. He felt his way, and presently as 
he rounded a mesquite he saw Sol’s white shape outlined 
against the blackness. The horse jumped and wheeled, 

ion; 


DESERT GOLD 


ready to run. It was doubtful if any one unknown to 
Sol could ever have caught him. Gale’s low call reassured 
him, and he went on grazing. Gale haltered him in the 
likeliest patch of grass and returned to his camp. There 
he lifted his saddle into a protected spot under a low wall 
of the mound, and, laying one blanket on the sand, he 
covered himself with the other and stretched himself for 
the night. 

Here he was out of reach of the wind; but he heard its 
melancholy moan in the mesquite. There was no other 
sound. The coyotes had ceased their hungry cries. Gale 
dropped to sleep, and slept soundly during the first half 
of the night; and after that he seemed always to be 
partially awake, aware of increasing cold and damp. 
The dark mantle turned gray, and then daylight came 
quickly. The morning was clear and nipping cold. He 
threw off the wet blanket and got up cramped and half 
frozen. A little brisk action was all that was necessary 
to warm his blood and loosen his muscles, and then he 
was fresh, tingling, eager. The sun rose in a golden 
blaze, and the descending valley took on wondrous 
changing hues. Then he fetched up Bianco Sol, saddled 
him, and tied him to the thickest clump of mesquite. 

“Sol, well have a drink pretty soon,” he said, patting 
the splendid neck. 

Gale meant it. He would not eat till he had watered 
his horse. Sol had gone nearly forty-eight hours with¬ 
out a sufficient drink, and that was long enough, even for 
a desert-bred beast. No three raiders could keep Gale 
away from that well. Taking his rifle in hand, he faced 
up the arroyo. Rabbits were frisking in the short wil¬ 
lows, and some were so tame he could have kicked them. 
Gale walked swiftly for a goodly part of the distance, 
and then, when he saw blue smoke curling up above the 
trees, he proceeded slowly, with alert eye and ear. From 
the lay of the *aud and position of trees seen by daylight, 
he found an easier and safer course than the one he had 
106 . 


THE YAQUI 

taken in the dark. And by careful work he was enabled 
to get closer to the well, and somewhat above it. 

The Mexicans were leisurely cooking their morning 
meal. They had two fires, one for warmth, the other 
to cook over. Gale had an idea these raiders were 
familiar to him. It seemed all these border hawks re¬ 
sembled one another—being mostly small of build, wiry, 
angular, swarthy-faced, and black-haired, and they wore 
the oddly styled Mexican clothes and sombreros. A 
slow wrath stirred in Gale as he watched the trio. They 
showed not the slightest indication of breaking camp. 
One fellow, evidently the leader, packed a gun at his hip, 
the only weapon in sight. Gale noted this with specula¬ 
tive eyes. The raiders had slept inside the little adobe 
house, and had not yet brought out the carbines. Next 
Gale swept his gaze to the corral, in which he saw more 
than a dozen horses, some of them fine animals. They 
,were stamping and whistling, fighting one another, and 
pawing the dirt. This was entirely natural behavior for 
desert horses penned in-when they wanted to get at water 
and grass. 

But suddenly one of the blacks, a big, shaggy feLow, 
shot up his ears and pointed his nose over the top of the 
fence. He whistled. Other horses looked in the same 
direction, and their ears went up, and they, too, whistled. 
Gale knew that other horses or men, very likely both, 
were approaching. But the Mexicans did not hear the 
alarm, or show any interest if they did. These mescal¬ 
drinking raiders were not scouts. It was notorious how 
easily they could be surprised or ambushed. Mostly they 
were ignorant, thick-skulled peons. They were wonder¬ 
ful horsemen, and could go long without food or water; 
but they had no other accomplishments or attributes cal¬ 
culated to help them in desert warfare. They had poor 
sight, poor hearing, poor judgment, and when excited 
they resembled crazed ants running wild. 

Gale saw two Indians on burros come riding up the 
107 


DESERT GOLD 


other side of the knoll upon which the adobe house stood; 
and apparently they were not aware of the presence of 
the Mexicans, for they came on up the path. One Indian 
was a Papago. The other, striking in appearance for 
other reasons than that he seemed to be about to fall from 
the burro, Gale took to be a Yaqui. These travelers had 
absolutely nothing for an outfit except a blanket and a 
half-empty bag. They came over the knoll and down the 
path toward the well, turned a comer of the house, and 
completely surprised the raiders. 

Gale heard a short, shrill cry, strangely high and wild, 
and this came from one of the Indians. It was answered 
by hoarse shouts. Then the leader of the trio, the Mexican 
who packed a gun, pulled it and fired point-blank. He 
missed once—and again. At the third shot the Papago 
shrieked and tumbled off his burro to fall in a heap. The 
other Indian swayed, as if the taking away of the support 
lent by his comrade had brought collapse, and with the 
fourth shot he, too, slipped to the ground. 

The reports had frightened the horses in the corral; 
and the vidous black, crowding the rickety bars, broke 
their down. He came plunging out. Two of the Mexi¬ 
cans ran for him, catching him by nose and mane, and the 
third ran to block the gateway. 

Then, with a splendid vaulting mount, the Mexican 
with the gun leaped to the back of the horse. He yelled 
and waved his gun, and urged the black forward. The 
manner of all three was savagely jocose. They were 
having sport The two on the ground began to dance 
and jabber. The mounted leader shot again, and then 
stuck like a leech upon the bare back of the rearing black. 
It was a vain show of horsemanship. Then this Mexican, 
by some strange grip, brought the horse down, plunging 
almost upon the body of the Indian that had fallen last. 

Gale stood aghast with his rifle clutched tight. He 
could not divine the intention of the raider, but suspected 
something strikingly brutal. The horse answered that 
108 


THE YAQUI 

cruel, guiding hand, yet he swerved and bucked. He 
reared aloft, pawing the air, wildly snorting, then he 
plunged down upon ther prostrate Indian. Even in the 
act the intelligent animal tried to keep from striking the 
body with his hoofs. But that was not possible. A yell, 
hideous in its passion, signaled this feat of horsemanship. 

The Mexican made no move to trample the body of the 
Papago. He turned the black to ride again over the 
other Indian. That brought into Gale’s mind what he 
had heard of a Mexican’s hate for a Yaqui. It recalled 
the barbarism of these savage peons, and the war of 
extermination being waged upon the Yaquis. 

Suddenly Gale was horrified to see the Yaqui writhe 
and raise a feeble hand. The action brought renewed and 
more savage cries from the Mexicans. The horse snorted 
in terror. 

Gale could bear no more. He took a quick shot at the 
rider. He missed the moving figure, but hit the horse. 
There was a bound, a horrid scream* a mighty plunge, 
then the horse went down, giving the Mexican a stunning 
fall. Both beast and man lay still. 

Gale rushed from his cover to intercept the other raiders 
before they could reach the house and their weapons. 
One fellow yelled and ran wildly in the opposite direction; 
the other stood stricken in his tracks. Gale ran in close 
and picked up the gun that had dropped from the raider 
leader’s hand. This fellow had begun to stir, to come out 
of his stunned condition. Then the frightened horses 
burst the corral bars, and in a thundering, dust-mantled 
stream fled up the arroyo. 4 , 

The fallen raider sat up, mumbling to his saints in one 
breath, cursing in his next. The other Mexican kept his 
stand, intimidated by the threatening rifle. 

“Go, Greasers! Run!” yelled Gale. Then he yelled 
it in Spanish. At the point of his rifle he drove the two 
raiders out of the camp. His next move was to run into 
the house and fetch out the carbines. With a heavy 

I OQ 


DESERT GOLD 

stone he dismantled each weapon. That done, he set out 
on a rim for his horse. He took the shortest cut down the 
arroyo, with no concern as to whether or not he would 
encounter the raiders. Probably such a meeting would 
be all the worse for them, and they knew it. Blanco Sol 
heard him coming and whistled a welcome, and when 
Gale ran up the horse was snorting war. Mounting, Gale 
rode rapidly back to the scene of the action, and his first 
thought, when he arrived at the well, was to give Sol a 
drink and to fill his canteens. 

Then Gale led his horse up out of the waterhole, and 
decided before remounting to have a look at the Indians. 
The Papago had been shot through the heart, but the 
Yaqui was still alive. Moreover, he was conscious and 
starrng up at Gale with great, strange, somber eyes, black 
as volcanic slag. 

“Gringo good—no kill,” he said, in husky whisper. 

His speech was not affirmative so much as questioning. 
Yaqui, you re done for,” said Gale, and his words were 
positive. He was simply speaking aloud his mind 
“Yaqui—no hurt—much,” replied the Indian, and then 
he spoke a strange word—repeated it again and again. 

An instinct of Gale’s, or perhaps some suggestion in the 
husky, thick whisper or dark face, told Gale to reach for 
his canteen. He lifted the Indian and gave him a drink, 
and if ever in all his life he- saw gratitude in human eyes 
he saw it then. Then he examined the injured Yaqui 
not forgetting for an instant to send wary, fugitive glances 
on all sides. Gale was not to be surprised. The Indian 
lad three wounds a bullet hole in his shoulder, a crushed 
arm, and a badly lacerated leg. What had been the mat- 

‘ er ™ th n ! m bef °re being set upon by the raider Gale 
could not be certain. 

The ranger thought rapidly. This Yaqui world live 

ww\l eft t ( here , to dle or murdered by the Mexicans 
when they found courage to sneak back to the well. It 
never occurred to Gale to abandon the poor fellow. That 
*10 


THE YAQUI 

was where his old training, the higher order of human 
feeling, made impossible the following of any elemental 
instinct of self-preservation. All the same, Gale knew he 
multiplied his perils a hundredfold by burdening himself 
with a crippled Indian. Swiftly he set to work, and with 
rifle ever under his hand, and shifting glance spared from 
his task, he bound up the Yaqui’s wounds. At the same 
time he kept keen watch. 

The Indians’ burros and the horses of the raiders were 
all out of sight. Time was too valuable for Gale to use 
any in what might be vain search. Therefore, he lifted 
the Yaqui upon Sol’s broad shoulders and climbed into 
the saddle. At a word Sol dropped his head and started 
eastward up the trail, walking swiftly, without resentment 
for liis double burden. 

Far ahead, between two huge mesas where the trail 
mounted over a pass, a long line of dust douds marked 
the position of the horses that had escaped from the 
corral. Those that had been stolen would travel straight 
and true for home, and perhaps would lead the others 
with them. The raiders were left on the desert without 
guns or mounts. 

Blanco Sol walked or jog-trotted six miles to the hour. 
At that gait fifty miles would not have wet or turned a hair 
of his dazzling white coat. Gale, bearing in mind the 
ever-present possibility of encountering more raiders and 
of being pursued, saved the strength of the horse. Once 
out of sight of Papago, Well, Gale dismounted and walked 
beside the horse, steadying with one firm hand the help¬ 
less, dangling Yaqui. 

The sun cleared the eastern ramparts, and the coolness 
of morning fled as if before a magic foe. The whole 
desert changed. The grays wore bright; the mesquites 
glistened; the cactus took the silver hue of frost, and the 
rocks gleamed gold and red. Then, as the heat increased, 
a wind rushed up out of the valley behind Gale, and the 
hotter the sun blazed down the swifter rushed the wind 


DESERT GOLD 


The wonderful transparent haze of distance lost its bluish 
hue for one with tinge of yellow. Flying sand made the 
peaks dimly outlined. 

Gale kept pace with his horse. He bore the twinge of 
pain that darted through his injured hip at every stride. 
His eye roved over the wide, smoky prospect seeking the 
.landmarks he knew. When the wild and bold spurs of 
No Name Mountains loomed through a rent in flying 
clouds of sand he felt nearer home. Another hour brought 
him abreast of a dark, straight shaft rising clear from a 
' beetling escarpment. This was a monument marking the 
international boundary line. When he had passed it he 
had his own country under foot. In the heat of midday 
he halted in the shade of a rock, and, lifting the Yaqui 
down, gave him a drink. Then, after a long, sweeping 
survey of the surrounding desert, he removed Sol’s saddle 
and let him roll, and took for himself a welcome rest and 
a bite to eat. 

< The Yaqui was tenacious of life. He was still holding 
his own. For the first time Gale really looked at the 
Indian to study him. He had a large head nobly cast, 
and a face that resembled a shrunken mask. It seemed 
chiseled in the dark-red, volcanic lava of Ins Sonora wil¬ 
derness. The Indian’s eyes were always black and mystic* 
but this Yaqui’s encompassed all the tragic desolation of 
the desert. They were fixed on Gale, moved only when 
he moved. The Indian was short and broad* and his 
body showed unusual muscular development* although 
he seemed greatly emaciated from starvation or illness. 

Gale resumed his homeward journey, Y/hen he got 
through the pass he faced a great depression, as rough 
as if millions of gigantic spikes had been driven by the 
hammer of Thor into a seamed and cracked floor. This 
was Altar Valley.^ It was a chaos of arroyos, canons, 
rocks, and ridges all mantled with cactus, and at its east¬ 
ern end it claimed the dry bed of Forlorn River and water 
when there was any. 


112 


THE YAQUI 

With a wounded, helpless man across the saddle, this 
stretch of thorny and contorted desert was practically 
Impassable. Yet Gale headed into it unflinchingly. He 
would carry the Yaqui as far as possible, or until death 
made the burden no longer a duty. Blanco Sol plodded 
on over the dragging sand, up and down the steep, loose 
banks of washes, out on the rocks, and through the rows 
of white-toothed choyas . 

The sun sloped westward, bending fiercer heat in venge¬ 
ful, parting reluctance. The wind slackened. The dust 
settled. And the bold, forbidding front of No Name 
Mountains changed to red and gold. Gale held grimly 
by the side of the tireless, implacable horse, holding the 
Yaqui on the saddle, taking the brunt of the merciless 
thorns. In the end it became heartrending toil. His 
heavy chaps dragged him down; but he dared not go on 
without them, for, thick and stiff as they were, the ter¬ 
rible, steel-bayoneted spikes of the choyas pierced through 
to sting his legs. 

To the last mile Gale held to Blanco Sol’s gait and kept 
ever-watchful gaze ahead on the trail. Then, with the 
low, flat houses of Forlorn River shining red in the sun¬ 
set, Gale flagged and rapidly weakened. The Yaqui 
slipped out of the saddle and dropped limp in the sand. 
Gale could not mount his horse. He clutched Sol’s long 
tail and twisted his hand in it and staggered on. 

Blanco Sol whistled a piercing blast. He scented cool 
water and sweet alfalfa hay. Twinkling lights ahead 
meant rest The melancholy desert twilight rapidly suc¬ 
ceeded the sunset. It accentuated the forlorn loneliness 
of the gray, winding river of sand and its grayer shores. 
Night shadows trooped down from the black and looming 
mountains. 


VII 


WHITE HORSES 

A Yaqui! Why the heh did yon saddle 

t\ yourself with him?” roared Belding, as he laid Gale 
upon the bed. 

Belding had grown hard these late, violent weeks. 

“Because I chose,” whispered Gale, in reply. “Go 
after him—he dropped in the trail—across the river—near 
the first big saguaro .” 

Belding began to swear as he fumbled with matches 
and the lamp; but as the light flared up he stopped short 
in the middle of a word. 

“You said you weren't hurt?” he demanded, in sharp 
anxiety, as he bent over Gale. 

“ I’m only—all in-Will you go—or send some one— 

for the Yaqui?” 

ouie, Dick, sure , 9 Belding replied, in softer tones. 
Then he stalked out; his heels rang on the flagstones; 
he opened a door and called: “Mother—girls, here’s Dick 
back. He’s done up. . . . Now—no, no, he's not hurt or 
m bad shape. You women!.. Do what you can to make 
him comfortable.. I’ve got a little job on hand.” 

There were quick replies that Gale's duiline ears did 
not distinguish. Then it seemed Mrs. Belding was be- 
side his bed, her very presence so cool and soothing and 
helpful, and Mercedes and Nell, wide-eyed and white- 
faced,-were fluttering around him. He drank thirstily 
but refused food. He wanted rest. And with their faces 
drifting away in a kind of haze, with the feeling of gentle 
lands about him, he lost consciousness. 

Jti4 


WHITE HORSES 

He slept twenty hours. Then he arose, thirsty, hungry, 
lame, overworn, and presently went in search of Belding 
and the business of the day. 

“Your Yaqui was near dead, but guess we’ll pull 
mm through,” said Belding. “Dick, the other day that 
Indian came here by rail and foot and Lord only knows 
how else, all the way from New Orleans! He spoke Eng¬ 
lish better than most Indians, and I know a little Yaqui. 
I got some of his story and guessed the rest. The Mexi¬ 
can government is trying to root out the Yaquis. A year 
ago his tribe was taken in chains to a Mexican port on 
the Gulf. The fathers, mothers, children, were separated 
and put in ships bound for Yucatan. There they were 
made slaves on the great henequen plantations. They 
were driven, beaten, starved. Each slave had for a day’s 
rations a hunk of sour dough, no more. Yucatan is low, 
marshy, damp, hot. The Yaquis were bred on the high, 
dry Sonoran plateau, where the air is like a knife. They 
dropped dead in the henequen fields, and their places were 
taken by more. You see, the Mexicans won’t kill out¬ 
right in their war of extermination of the Yaquis. They 
get use out of them. It’s a horrible thing. . „ c Well, this 
Yaqui you brought in escaped from his captors, got 
aboard ship, and eventually reached New Orleans. Some¬ 
how he traveled way out here. I gave him a bag of food, 
and he went off with a Papago Indian. He was a sick 
man then. And he must have fallen foul of some 
Greasers.” 

Gale told of his experience at Papago Well. 

“That raider who tried to grind the Yaqui under a 
horse’s hoofs—he was a hyena!” concluded Gale, shudder¬ 
ing. “I’ve seen some blood spilled and some hard sights, 
but that inhuman devil took my nerve. Why, as I told 
you, Belding, I missed a shot at him—not twenty paces!” 

“Dick, in cases like that the sooner you clean up the 
bunch the better,” said Belding, grimly. “As for hard 
sights—wait till you’ve seen a Yaqui do up a Mexican, 
US 


DESERT GOLD 


Bar none, that is the limit! It’s blood lust, a racial hate, 
deep as life, and terrible. The Spaniards crushed the 
Aztecs four or five hundred years ago. That hate has 
had time to grow as deep as a cactus root. The Yaquis 
are mountain Aztecs. Personally , I think they are noble 
and intelligent, and if let alone would be peaceable and 
industrious. I like the few I’ve known. But they are a 
doomed race. Have you any idea what ailed this Yaqui 
before the raider got.in his work?” 

“No, I haven’t. I noticed the Indian seemed in bad 
shape; but I couldn’t tell what was the matter with 
him.” 

“Well, my idea is another personal one. Maybe it’s 
off color. I think that Yaqui was, or is, for that matter, 
dying of a broken heart. All he wanted was to get back 
to his mountains and die. There are no Yaquis left in 
that part of Sonora he was bound for.” 

“ He had a strange look in his eyes,” said Gale, thought¬ 
fully. 

“Yes, I noticed that. But all Yaquis have a wild look 
Dick, if I’m not mistaken, this fellow was a chief. It was 
a waste of strength, a needless risk for you to save him, 
pack him back here. But, damn the whole Greaser out¬ 
fit generally, I’m glad you did!” 

Gale remembered then to speak of his concern for 
Ladd. 

^ “Laddy didn’t go out to meet you,” replied Belding. 
“I knew you were due in any day, and, as there’s been 
trouble between here and Casita, I sent him that way. 
Since you’ve been out our friend Carter lost a bunch of 
horses and a few steers. Did you get a good look at the 
horses those raiders had at Papago Well?” 

Dick had learned, since he had become a ranger, to 
see everything with keen, sure, photographic eye; and, 
being put to the test so often required of him, he described 
the horses as a dark-colored drove, mostly bays arid 
blacks, with one spotted sorrel, 

116 


WHITE HORSES 


“Some of Carter’s—sure as you’re bom!” exclaimed 
Belding. "His bunch has been split up, divided among 
several bands of raiders. He has a grass ranch up here 
in Three Mile Arroyo. It’s a good long ride in U. S. 
territory from the border.” 

“Those horses 1 saw will go home, don’t you think?” 
asked Dick. 

“Sure. They can’t be caught or stopped.” 

“Well, what shall I do now?” 

“Stay here and rest,” bluntly replied Belding. “You 
need it. Let the women fuss over you—doctor you a 
little. When Jim gets back from Soncyta I’ll know more 
about what we ought to do. By Lord! it seems our job 
now isn’t keeping Japs and Chinks out of the U. S. It’s 
keeping our property from going into Mexico.” 

“Are there any letters for me?” asked Gale. 

“Letters! Say, my boy, it’d take something pretty 
important to get me or any man here back Casita way. 
If the town is safe these days the road isn’t. It’s a month 
now since any one went to Casita.” 

Gale had received several letters from his sister Elsie, 
the last of which he had not answered. There had not 
been much opportunity for writing on his infrequent 
returns to Forlorn River; and, besides, Elsie had written 
that her father had stormed over what he considered 
Dick’s falling into wild and evil ways. 

“Time flies,” said Dick. “George Thome will be free 
before long, and he’ll be coming out. I winder if he’ll 
stay here or try to take Mercedes away?” 

“Well, he’ll stay right here in Forlorn River, if I have 
any say,” replied Belding. “I’d like to know how he’d 
ever get that Spanish girl out of the country now, with 
all the trails overrun by rebels and raiders. It’d be hard 
to disguise her. Say, Dick, maybe we can get Thome to 
stay here. You know, since you’ve discovered the pos¬ 
sibility of a big water supply, I’ve had dreams of a 
future for Forlorn River. ... If only this war was over! 

.m 


DESERT GOLD 

Dick, that s what it is—war-—scattered war along the 
northern border of Mexico from gulf to gull What if it 
isn’t our war? We’re on the fringe. No, we can’t de¬ 
velop Forlorn River until there’s peace.” 

The discovery that Belding alluded to was one that 
might very well lead to the making of a wonderful and 
agricultural district of Altar Valley. While in college 
Dick Gale had studied engineering," but he had not set- 
the scientific world afire with his brilliance. Nor after 
leaving college had he been able to satisfy his father that 
he could hold a job. Nevertheless, his smattering of em 
gmeering skill bore fruit in the last place on earth where 
anything might have been expected of it—in the desert. 
Gale had always wondered about the source of Forlorn 
River. No white man or Mexican, or, so far as known, 
no Indian, had climbed those mighty broken steps of rock 
called No Name Mountains, from which Forlorn Rive* 
was supposed to come. Gale had discovered a long, narl 
row, rock-bottomed and rock-walled gulch that could 
be dammed at the lower end by the dynamiting of leaning 
chffs above. An inexhaustible supply of water could be 
stored there. Furthermore, he had worked out an irriga¬ 
tion plan to bring the water down for mining uses, and to 
maxe a paradise out of that part of Altar Valley which 
lay in the United States. Belding claimed there was gold 
in the arroyos, gold in the gulches, not in quantities to 
make a prospector rejoice, but enough to work for. And 
the soil on the higher levels of Altar Valley needed only 
water to make it grow anything the year round. Gale 

too, had come to have dreams of a future for Forlorn 
River. 

On the afternoon of the following day Ladd unexpect- 
edly appeared leading a lame and lathered horse into the 
yard. Belding and Gale, who were at work at the forge, 
looked up and were surprised out of speech. The legs of 
the horse were raw and red, and he seemed about to drop. 
Ladds sombrero was missing; he wore a bloodv scarf 
118 


WHITE HORSES 


round his head; sweat and blood and dust had formed 
a crust on his face; little streams of powdery dust slid 
from him; and the lower half of his scarred chaps were 
full of broken white thorns. 

“Howdy, boys,” he drawled. “I shore am glad to see 
you all.” 

“Where’n hell’s your hat?” demanded Belding, furi¬ 
ously. It was a ridiculous greeting. But Beiding’s words 
signified little. The dark shade of worry and solicitude 
crossing his face told more than his black amaze. 

The ranger stopped unbuckling the saddle girths, and, 
looking at Belding, broke into his slow, cool laugh. 

“Tom, you recollect that whopper of a saguaro up here 
where Carter’s trail branches off the main trail to Casita ? 
Well, I climbed it an’ left my hat on top for a wood¬ 
pecker’s nest.” 

“You’ve been running-fighting?” queried Belding, as 
if Ladd had not spoken at all. 

“I reckon it’ll dawn on you after awhile,” replied Ladd, 
slipping the saddle. 

“Laddy, go in the house to the women,” said Belding. 
“I’ll tend to your horse.” 

“Shore, Tom, in a minute. I’ve been down the road. 
An’ I found hoss tracks an’ steer tracks goin’ across the 
line. But I seen no sign of raiders till this morning 
Slept at Carter’s last night. That raid the other day 
cleaned him out. He’s shootin’ mad. Well, this mornin’ 
I rode plumb into a bunch of Carter's hosses, runnin’ wild 
for home. Some Greasers were tryin’ to head them round 
an’ chase them back across the line. I rode in between 
an’ made matters embarrassin’. Carter’s hosses got 
away. Then me an’ the Greasers had a little game of 
hide an’ seek in the cactus. I was on the wrong side, an’ 
had to break through their line to head toward home. 
We run some. But I had a closer call than I’m stuck on 
havin’.” 

“Laddy, you wouldn’t have any such close calls if 

9 U9 


DESERT GOLD 


you’d ride one of my horses,” expostulated Belding. 
44 This broncho of yours can run, and .Lord knows he’s 
game. But you want a big, strong horse, Mexican bred, 
with cactus in his blood. Take one of the bunch— 
Bull, White Woman, Blanco Josd.” 

“I had a big, fast horse a while back, but I lost him/ 
said Ladd. “This bronch ain’t so bad. Shore Bull an* 
that white devil with his Greaser name—they could run 
down my bronch, kill him in a mile of cactus. But, 
somehow, Tom, I can’t make up my mind to take one of 
them grand white hosses. Shore I reckon I’m kinda soft. 
An ? mebbe I’d better take one before the raiders clean 
up Forlorn River.” 

Belding cursed low and deep in his throat, and the 
sound resembled muttering thunder. The shade of anx¬ 
iety on his face changed to one of dark gloom and 
passion. Next to his wife and daughter there was noth¬ 
ing so dear to him as those white horses. IBs father and 
his grandfather-all his progenitors of whom he had 
trace—had been lovers of horses. It was in Belding’s 
blood, 

“ Laddy, before it's too late can’t I get the whites away 
from the border?” 

Mebbe it ain’t too late; but where can we take them?” 

“To San Felipe?” 

“No. We’ve more chance to hold them here.” 

“To Casita and the railroad?” 

“Afraid to risk gettin* there. An* the town’s full 
Rebels who need hosses.” 

“Then straight north?” 

“ Shore man, you’re crazy. There’s no water, no grass 
for a hundred miles. 1*1! tell you, Tcm, the safest plan 
would be to take the white bunch south into Sonora, into 
some wild mountain valley. Keep them there till the 
raiders have traveled on back east. Pretty soon there 
won’t be any rich pickin’ left for these Greasers. An* 
then they’ll ride on to new ranges.” 

120 


WHITE HORSES 


“ Laddy, 1 don’t know the trails into Sonora. An I 
can’t trust a Mexican or a Papago. Between you and 
me, I’ni afraid of this Indian who herds for me.” 

*T reckon we’d better stick here, Tom. . . . Dick, it’i 
some good to see you again. But you seem kinda quiet 
Shore you get quieter all the time. Did you see any sign 
of Jim out Sonoyta way?” 

Then Belding led the lame horse toward the watering- 
trough, while the two rangers went toward the house 
Dick was telling Ladd about the affair at Papago Well 
when they turned the comer under the porch, Nell was 
sitting in the door. She rose with a little scream and 
same flying toward them. 

“Now I’ll get it,” whispered Ladd. “The women ’ll 
make a baby of me. An’ shore I can't help my self 

“Oh, Laddy, you’ve been hurt!” cried Nell, as with 
white cheeks and dilating eyes she ran to him and caught 
his arm, 

“Nell, I only ran a thorn in my ear,” 

•'Oh. Laddy, don’t lie! You’ve lied before- I know 
you’re hurt. Come in to mother,” 

“Shore, Nell, it’s only a scratch. My broncb throwed 
me.” 

“Laddy, no horse ever threw you,” The girl’s words 
and accusing eyes only hurried the ranger on to further 
duplicity. 

“Mebbe I got it when I was ridin’ hard under a mes- 
quite, an* a sharp snag-—” 

“You’ve been shot!.. . Mama, here’s Laddy, and he’s 
been shot! . . . Oh, these dreadful days we’re having! X 
can’t bear them! Forlorn River used to be so safe and 
quiet. Nothing happened. But now! Jim comes home 
with a bloody hole in him—then Dick— then Laddy i . « 
Oh ? I’m afraid some day they’ll never come home,” 

The morning was bright, still, and dear as crystal 
The herd waves bad not yet begun to rise from the desert 
121 


DESERT GOLD 

- oft gray, while, and green tint perfect!} blended lay 
a mantle over mesquite and sand and t actus. The 
>ns of distant mountain showed deep and full of lilac 

. ell sat perched high upon the topmost bar of the corral 
gate. Dick leaned beside her, now with hi& eyes on her 
face, now gazing out into the alfalfa field wliere Belding’s 
thoroughbreds grazed and pranced and romped and 
whistled. Nell watched the horses. She loved them, 
never tired of watching them. But her gaze was too 
consciously averted from the yearning eyes that tried to 
meet hers to be altogether natural. 

# A great fenced field of dark velvety green alfalfa fur¬ 
nished a rich background for the drove b f about twenty 
white horses. Even without the horses the field would 
have presented a striking contrast to the surrounding hot, 
glaring blaze of rock and sand. Belding had bred a hun¬ 
dred or more horses from the original stock he had brought 
up from Durango. His particular interest was in the al¬ 
most unblemished whites, and these he had given especial 
care. He made a good deal of money selling this strain 
to friends among the ranchers back in Texas. No mer¬ 
cenary consideration, however, could have made him 
part with the great, rangy white horses he had gotten 
from the Durango breeder. He called them Blanco 
Diablo (White Devil), Blanco Sol (White Sun), Blanca 
Reina (White Queen), Blanca Mujer (White Woman), 
and El Gran Toro Blanco (The Big White Bull). Beld¬ 
ing had been laughed at by ranchers for preserving 
the sentimental Durango names, and he had been un¬ 
mercifully ridiculed by cowboys. But the names had 
never been changed. 

Blanco Diablo was the only horse in the field that was 
not free to roam and graze where he listed. A stake and 
a halter held him to one corner, where he was severely 
let alone by the other horses. He did not like this isola¬ 
tion,* Blanco Diablo was not happy unless he was run* 


WHI^E HORSES 

ning, or fighting a rival. Of the two he would ratiiei 
fight. If anything white could resemble a devil, this 
horse surely did. He had nothing beautiful about*him, 
yet Ire drew the gaze and held it. The look of him sug¬ 
gested discontent, anger, revolt, viciousness. When he 
was not grazing or prancing, he held his long, lean head 
level, pointing his nose and showing his teeth. Belding’s 
favorite was almost all the world to him, and he swore 
Diablo could stand more heat and thirst and cactus than 
any other horse he owned, and could run down and kill 
any horse in the Southwest. The fact that Ladd did not 
agree with Belding on these salient points was a great dis¬ 
appointment, and also a perpetual source for argument. 
Ladd and Lash both hated Diablo; and Dick Gale, after 
one or two narrow escapes from being brained, had in¬ 
clined to the cowboys’ side of the question. 

El Gran Toro Blanco upheld his name. He was a 
huge, massive, thick-flanked stallion, a kingly mate for 
his full-bodied, glossy consort, Blanca Reina. The other 
mare, Blanca Mujer, was dazzling white, without a spot; 
perfectly pointed, racy, graceful, elegant, yet carrying 
weight and brawn and range that suggested her relation 
to her forebears. 

The cowboys admitted some of Belding’s claims for 
Diablo, but they gave loyal and unshakable allegiance to 
Blanco SoL As for Dick, he had to fight himself to keep 
out of arguments, for he sometimes imagined he was un¬ 
reasonable about the horse. Though he could not under¬ 
stand himself, he knew he loved Sol as a man loved a 
friend, a brother. Free of heavy saddle and the clumsy 
leg shields. Blanco Sol was somehow all-satisfying to the 
eyes of the rangers. As long and big as Diablo was, Sol 
<vas longer and bigger. Also, he was higher, more power¬ 
ful. He looked more a thing for action—speedier. At 
a distance the honorable scars and lumps that marred 
his muscular legs were not visible. He grazed aloof from 
the others, and did not cavort nor prance; but when he 
I2,a 


DESERT GOLD' 

lifted his head to whistle, how wild he appeared, and 
proud and splendid! The dazzling whiteness of the desert 
suti shone from his coat; he had the fire and spirit of the 
desert in his noble head, its strength and oower in his 
gigantic frame. 

Belding swears Sol never beat Diablo,” Dick was 
saying. 

“He believes it,” replied Nell. “Dad is queer about 
that horse.” 

“But Laddy rode Sol once—made him beat Diablo 
jim saw the race.” 

Nell laughed. “ I saw it, too. For that matter, even 
i have made Sol put his nose before Dad’s favorite.” 

" Fd like to have seen that. Nell, aren’t you ever 
going to ride with me?” 

11 Some day—when it’s safe.” 

“ Safe!” 

*1—1 mean when the raiders have left the border ” 

«w U t- gI - ad yOU mean that -” ®»id Dick, laughing. 
•3 e “> 1 ve ° r p n wondered how Belding ever came to 
gi\e Blanco Sol to me. 

‘He was jealous. I think he wanted to get rid of Fo ! ” 

No. Why, Nell, he’d give Laddy or Jim one of the 
whites any day. 

“Would he? Not Devil or Queen or White Woman. 
Never m this world! But Dad has lots of fast horses' tte 
bo} scould pick from. Dick, I tell you Dad wants Blanco 
Sol to run himself out lose his speed on the desert. 
Daa is just jealous for Diablo.” 

fh; :t Ia T ybe - H f su J e }y has st^ge passion for homes. I 
think I understand better than I used to. I owned a 
coup.e °f racers once. They were just animals to me 
I guess. But Blanco Sol!” ’ 

“Do you love him?” asked Nell; and now a warm, blue 
Lash of eyes swept his face. 

* L^o I? Well, rather.” 

“ I’m glad. Sol has been finer, a better horse since you 
124 


WHITE HORSES 


owned him. He loves you, Dick. He’s always watching 
for you. See him raise his head. That’s for you. I know 
as much about horses as Dad or Laddy any day. Sol 
always hated Diablo, and he never had much use for Dad.” 

Dick looked up at her. 

“ It ’ll be—be pretty hard to leave Sol—when I go 
away.” 

Nell sat perfectly still. 

“Go away?” she asked, presently, with just the faint- 
est tremor in her voice. 

“Yes. Sometimes when I get blue—as I am to-day— 
I think I’ll go. But, in sober truth, Nell, it’s not likely 
that I’ll spend all my life here.” 

There was no answer to this. Dick put his hand softly 
over hers; and, despite her half-hearted struggle to free 
it, he held on. 

“Nell!” 

Her color fled. He saw her lips part. Then a heavy 
•step on the gravel, a cheerful, complaining voice inter¬ 
rupted him, and made him release Nell and draw back. 
Belding strode into view round the adobe shed. 

“Hey, Dick, that darned. Yaqui Indian can’t be driven 
or hired or coaxed to leave Forlorn River. He’s well 
enough to travel. I offered him horse, gun, blanket, grub. 
But no go.” 

“That’s funny,” replied Gale, with a smile. “Let him 
stay—put him to wrork.” 

“It doesn’t strike me funny. But I’ll tell you what 
I think. That poor, homeless, heartbroken Indian has 
taken a liking to you, Dick. These desert Yaquis are 
strange folk. I’ve heard strange stories about them. 
I’d believe ’most anything. And that’s how I figure his 
case. You saved his life. That sort of thing counts big 
with any Indian, even with an Apache. With a Yaqui 
maybe it’s of deep significance. I’ve heard a Yaqui say 
that with his tribe no debt to friend or foe ever went 
unpaid. Perhaps, that’s what ails this fellow.” 

125 


DESERT GOLD 


“Dick, don’t laugh,” said Nell. “I’ve noticed the 
Yaqui. It’s pathetic the way his great gloomy eyes 
follow you.” 

“You’ve made a friend,” continued Belding. “A 
Yaqui could be a real friend on this desert. If he gets 
his strength back he’ll be of service to you, don’t mistake 
me. He’s welcome here. But you’re responsible for him, 
and you’ll have trouble keeping him from massacring all 
the Greasers in Forlorn River.” 

The probability of a visit from the raiders, and a dash 
bolder than usual on the outskirts of a ranch, led Belding 
to build a new corral. It was not sightly to the eye, but 
it was high and exceedingly strong. The gate was a mas¬ 
sive affair, swinging on huge hinges and fastening with 
heavy chains and padlocks. On. the outside it had been 
completely covered with barb wire, which would make it a 
troublesome thing to work on in the dark. 

At rhght Belding locked his white horses in this corral. 
The Papago herdsman slept in the adobe shed adjoining. 
Belding did not imagine that any wooden fence, however 
substantially built, could keep determined raiders from 
breaking it down.. They would have to take time, how¬ 
ever, and make considerable noise; and Belding relied on 
these facts. Belding did not believe a band of night 
raiders would hold out against a hot rifle fire. So he began 
to make up some of the sleep he had lost. It was note¬ 
worthy, however, that Ladd did not share Belding’s 
sanguine hopes. 

Jim Lash rode in, reporting that all was well out along 
the line toward the Sonoyta Oasis. Days passed, and 
Belding kept his rangers home. Nothing was heard of 
raiders at hand. Many of the newcomers, both American 
and Mexican, who came with wagons and pack trains from 
Casita stated that property and life were cheap back in 
that rebel-infested town. 

One January morning Dick Gale was awakened bv a 
126 


WHITE HORSES 


shrill, menacing cry. He leaped up bewildered and 
frightened. He heard Belding’s booming voice answering 
shouts, and rapid steps on flagstones. But these had not 
awakened him. Heavy breaths, almost sobs, seemed at 
his very door. In the cold and gray dawn Dick saw some¬ 
thing white. Gun in hand, he bounded across the room. 
Just outside his door stood Blanco Sol. 

It was not unusual for Sol to come poking his head in at 
Dick’s door during daylight. But now in the early dawn, 
when he had been locked in the corral, it meant raiders— 
no less. Dick called softly to the snorting horse; and, 
hurriedly getting into clothes and boots, he went out with 
a gun in each hand. Sol was quivering in every muscle- 
Like a dog he followed Dick around the house. Hearing 
shouts in the direction of the corrals, Gale bent swift steps 
that way. 

He caught up with Jim Lash, who was also leading a 
white horse. 

* 1 Hello, Jim! Guess it’s all over but the fireworks, ’ ’ said 
Dick. 

“I cain’t say just what has come off,” replied Lash. 
“I’ve got the Bull. Found him runnin’ in the yard.” 

They reached the corral to find Belding shaking, roaring 
like a madman. The gate was open, the corral was empty. 
Ladd stooped over the ground, evidently trying to find 
tracks. 

“I reckon we might jest as well cool off an’ wait for 
daylight,” suggested Jim. 

“Shore. They’ve flown the coop, you can gamble on 
that. Tom, where’s the Papago?” said Ladd. 

“He’s gone, Laddy—gone!” 

“Double-crossed us, eh? I see here’s a crowbar lyin’ 
by the gatepost. That Indian fetched it from the forge. 
It was used to pry out the bolts an’ steeples, Tom, 
I reckon there wasn’t much time lost forcin' that 
gate.” 

Belding, in shirt sleeves and barefooted, roared with 
127 


DESERT GOLD 


rage. He said he had heard the horses running as he 
leaped out of bed. 

“ What woke you?” asked Laddy. 

. “ So1 * He ^me whistling for Dick. Didn’t you hear 
him before I called you?” 

“Hear him! He came thunderin’ right under my 
window. I jumped up in bed, an’ when he let out that 
blast Jim lit square in the middle of the floor, an’ I was 
scared stiff. Dick, seem* it was your room he blew into, 
what did you think?” 

“ I couldn’t think. I’m shaking yet, Laddy.” 

Boys, I’ll bet Sol spilled a few raiders if any got hands 
on him,” said Jim. ‘'Now, let’s sit down an’ wait for 
daylight. It’s my idea we’ll find some of the bosses 
runmn loose. Tom, you go an’ get some clothes on, 
it s freezm’ cold. An’ don’t forget to tell the women folks 
we re all right.” 


Daylight made clear some details of the raid. The cow. 
boys lound tracks of eight raiders coming up from the 
river bed where their horses had been left. Evidently the 
Papago had been false to his trust. His few personal 
belongings were gone. Lash was correct in his" idea of 
finding more horses loose in the fields. The men soon 
rounded up eleven of the whites, all more or less frightened 
and among the number were Queen and Blanca MuiV 
The raiders had been unable to handle more than one 
horse for each man. It was bitter irony of fate that 
Beldmg should lose his favorite, the one horse more dear 
to. him than all the others. Somewhere out on the trail a 
raider was fighting the iron-jawed savage Blanco Diablo 
(f L re °kon we’re some lucky,” observed Jim Lash, 

. Luck y ain’t enough word,” replied Ladd. “You see 
it. we.s this way. Some of the raiders piled over the fence 
wmle the others worked on the gate. Mebbe the Papava 
went inside to pick out the best hosses. But it didn’t 
work ^ except with Diablo, an’ how they ever not 
I don t know. I’d have gambled it’d take ad of eight 
128 


WHITE HORSES 

men to steal him. But Greasers have got us skinned gl 
handlin’ hosses.” 

B elding was unconsolable. He cursed and railed, and 
finally declared he was going to trail the raiders. 

“Tom, you just ain’t agoin’ to do nothin’ of the kind,’ 
said Ladd, coolly. 

Belding groaned and bowed his head, 

“ Laddy, you’re right,” he replied, presently. “ I’ve got 
to stand it. I can’t leave the women and my property. 
But it’s sure tough. I’m sore way down deep, and nothin* 
but blood would ever satisfy me.” 

“Leave that to me an’ Jim,” said Ladd. 

“What do you mean to do?” demanded Belding, 
starting up, 

t “ Shore I don’t know yet , t Give, me a light for my 
pipe. An* Dick, go fetch out your YaquL” 


¥111 


THE RUNNING OF BLANCO SOL 

HPHE Yaqui’s strange dark glance roved over the 
I corral, the swinging gate with its broken fastenings, 
the tracks in the road, and then rested upon Belc&ng, 
“Malo,” he said, and his Spanish was clear. 

“Shore Yaqui, about eight bad men, an* a traitor 
Indian,” said Ladd. 

“I think he means my herder,” added Belding* “If 
he does, that settles any doubt it might be decent to have— 
Yaqui—malo Papago—Si ? ’ * 

The Yaqui spread wide his hands. Then he bent over 
the tracks in the road. They led everywhither, but 
gradually he worked out of the thick net to take the trail 
chat the cowboys had followed down to the river* Beld- 
tng and the rangers kept close at his heels. Occasionally 
Dick lent a helping hand to the still feeble Indian, He 
found a trampled spot where the raiders had left, their 
horses. From this point a deeply defined narrow trail 
led across the dry river bed. 

Belding asked the Yaqui where the raiders would head 
for in the Sonora Desert. For answer the Indian followed 
the trail across the stream of sand, through willows and 
mesquite, up to the level of rock and cactus. At this 
point he halted. A sand-filled, almost obliterated trail 
led off to the left, and evidently went round to the east 
of No Name Mountains. To the right stretched the road 
toward Papago Well and the Sonoyta Oasis. The trail 
of the raiders took a southeasterly course over untrodden 
,130 


RUNNING OF BLANCO SOL 

desert. The Yaqui spoke in his own tongue, then in 
Spanish, 

“Think he means slow march/' said Belding. “Laddy { 
from the looks of that trail the Greasers are having trouble 
with the horses/' 

“Tom, shore a boy could see that/’ replied Laddy 
“Ask Yaqui to tell us where the raiders are headin’, an' 
M there's water/' 

It was wonderful to see the Yaqui point. His dark 
hand stretched, he sighted over his stretched finger at a 
low white escarpment in the distance. Then with a 
stick he traced a line in the sand, and then at the end 
of that another line at right angles. He made ciosses 
and marks and holes, and as he drew the rude map he 
talked in Yaqui, in Spanish; with a word here and there 
in English. Belding translated as best he could. The 
raiders were heading southeast toward the railroad that 
ran from Nogales down into Sonora. It was four days’ 
travel, bad trail, good sure waterhole one day out; 
then water not sure for two days. Raiders traveling 
slow, bothered by too many horses, not looking for 
pursuit; were never pursued, could be headed and am¬ 
bushed that night at the first waterhole, a natural trap 
in a valley*. 

The men returned to the ranch. The rangers ate and 
drank while making hurried preparations for travel. 
Blanco Sol and the cowboys’ horses were fed, watered, 
and saddled. Ladd again refused to ride one of Belding’a 
whites. He was quick and cold. 

“Get me a long-range rifle an' lots of shells. Rustle 
now,” he said. 

“Laddy, you don’t want to be weighted down?” pro¬ 
tested Belding 

' Shore I want a gun that ’ll outshoot the dinky little 
carbines an* muskets used by the rebels. Trot one out 
fti/ be quick/' 

"I've got a .405, a long-barreled heavy rifle that ’ll 


DESERT GOLD 


v hoot a mile. I use it for mountain sheep. But Laddy,- 
h ’ll break that bronch’s back.” 

“ His back won’t break so easy. . . . Dick, take plenty 
of shells for your Remington. An’ don’t forget your 
field glass.” 

In less than an hour after the time of the raid the three 
rangers, heavily armed and superbly mounted on fresh 
horses, rode out on the trail. As Gale turned to look 
back from the far bank of Forlorn River, he saw Nell 
waving a white scarf. He stood high in his stirrups and 
waved his sombrero. Then the mesquites hid the girl’s 
slight figure, and Gale wheeled grim-faced to follow the 
rangers. 

They rode in single file with Ladd in the lead. He did 
not keep to the trail of the raiders all the time. He made 
short cuts. The raiders were traveling leisurely, and they 
evinced a liking for the most level and least cactus-covered 
stretches of ground. But the cowboy took a bee-line 
course for the white escarpment pointed out by the 
Yaqui; and nothing save deep washes and impassable 
patches of cactus or rocks made him swerve from. it. He 
kept the broncho at a steady walk over the rougher places 
and at a swinging Indian canter over the hard and level 
ground. The sun grew hot and the wind began to blow. 
Dust clouds rolled along the blue horizon. Whirling 
columns of sand, like water spouts at sea, circled up out 
of white arid basins, and swept away and spread aloft 
before the wind. The escarpment began to rise, to change 
color, to show breaks upon its rocky face. 

Whenever the rangers rode out on the brow of a knoll 
or ridge or an eminence, before starting to descend, Ladd 
required of Gale a long, careful, sweeping survey of the 
desert ahead through the field glass. There were streams 
of white dust to be seen, streaks of yellow dust, trailing 
low clouds of sand over the glistening dunes, but no 
steadily rising, uniformly shaped puffs that would tell a 
tale of moving horses on the desert. 

*33 


RUNNING OF BLANCO SOL 

At noon the rangers got out of the thick cactus. More¬ 
over, tc gravel-bottomed washes, the low weathering, 
rotting ledges of yellow rock gave place to hard sandy 
rolls and bare day knolls. The desert resembled a round¬ 
ed hummocky sea of color. All light shades of blue and 
pink and yellow and mauve were there dominated by the 
glaring white sun. Mirages glistened, wavered, faded in 
the shimmering waves of heat. Dust as'fine as powder 
whiffed up from under the tireless hoofs. 

The rangers rode on and the escarpment began to loom. 
The desert floor inclined perceptibly upward. When 
Gale got an unobstructed view of the slope of the escarp¬ 
ment he located the raiders and horses. In another 
hour’s travel the rangers could see with naked eyes a 
long, faint moving streak of black and white dots. 

‘‘They’re headin’ for that yellow pass,” said Ladd, 
pointing to a break in the eastern end of the escarp¬ 
ment When they get out of sight we s U rustle. I’m 
thinkin* that waterhcle the Yaqui spoke of lays in the 
pass.” s 

Trie rangers traveled swiftly over the remaining miles 
of level desert leading to the ascent of the escarpment. 
When they achieved the gateway of the pass the sun was 
low in the west. Dwarfed mesquite and greasewood 
appeared among the rocks. Ladd gave the word to tie 
up horses and go forward on foot. 

The narrow neck of the pass opened and descended into 
a valley half a mile wide, perhaps twice that in length. 
It had apparently unscalable slopes of weathered, rock 
leading up to beetling walls. With floor bare and hard 
and white, except for a patch of green mesquite near the 
far end, it was a lurid and desolate spot, the barren bottom 
of a desert bowl. 

“Keep down, boys,” said Ladd. “There’s the water- 
hole, an hosses have sharp eyes. Shore the Yaqui 
daggered this place. I never seen its like for a trap.” 

Both white and black horses showed against-the green, 
LY5 


DESERT GOLD 


and a thin curling column of blue smoke rose lazily from 
amid the mesquites. 

4 ' I reckon we’d better wait till dark, or mebbe daylight*'* 
said Jim Lash. 

‘‘Let me figger some. Dick, what do you make of the 
outlet to this hole? Looks rough to me.” 

With his glass Gale studied the narrow construction of 
walls and roughened rising floor. 

‘‘Laddy, it’s harder to get out at that end than here*** 
he replied. 

“Shore that’s hard enough. Let me have a look. . . e 
Well, boys, it don’t take no figgerin’ for this job. Jim, 
I’ll want you at the other end blockin’ the pass when we’re 
ready to start.” 

“When ’ll that be?” inquired Jim. 

“Soon as it’s light enough in the mornm*. That 
Greaser outfit will hang till to-morrow. There’s no 
sure water ahead for two days, you remember.” 

“I reckon I can slip through to the other end after 
dark,” said Lash, thoughtfully. “It might get me in 
bad to go round.” 

The rangers stole back from the vantage point and re¬ 
turned to their horses, which they untied and left farther 
round among broken sections of cliff. For the horses it 
was a dry, hungry camp, but the rangers built a fire and 
nad their short though strengthening meal. 

The location was high, and through a break in the 
jumble of rocks the great colored void of desert could be 
seen rolling away endlessly to the west. The sun set, 
and after it had gone down the golden tips of mountains 
dulled, their lower shadows creeping, up ward. 

^ Jim Lash rolled in his saddle blanket, his feet near the 
fi.e, and went to sleep. Ladd told Gale to do likewise 
while he kept the fire up and waited until it was late enough 
for Jim to undertake circling round the raiders. When 
Gale awakened the night was dark, cold, windy. The 
stars shone with white brilliance. Jim was up saddling 
134 


RUNNING OF BLANCO SOL 

ms horse, and Ladd was talking low, When Gale rose to 
accompany them both rangers said he need not go. But 
Gale wanted to go, because that was the thing Ladd or 
Jim would have done. 

With Ladd leading, they moved away into the gloom. 
Advance was exceedingly slow, careful, silent. Under the 
walls the blackness seemed impenetrable. "The horse was 
as cautious as his master. Ladd did not lose his way, 
nevertheless he wound between blocks of stone and clumps 
of mesquite, and often tried a passage to abandon it. 
Finally the trail showed pale in the gloom, and eastern 
stars twinkled between the lofty ramparts of the pass. 

The advance here was still as stealthily made as before,, 
but not so difficult or slow. When the dense gloom of the 
pass lightened, and there was a wide apace of sky and 
stars overhead, Ladd halted and stood silent a moment, 

44 Luck again r he whispered. 44 The wind’s in your 
face, Jifn, The horses won’t scent you. Go slow. Don’t 
crack a stone. Keep close under the wall. Try to get 
up as high as this at the other end. Wait till daylight 
before riskin’ a loose slope. I’ll be tidin’ the job early. 
That’s all ” 

Ladd’s cool, easy speech was scarcely significant of the 
perilous undertaking. Lash moved very slowly away, 
leading his horse. The soft pads of hoofs ceased to sound 
about the time the gray shape merged into the black 
shadows. Then Ladd touched Dick’s arm, and turned 
back up the trail. 

But Dick tarried a moment. He wanted a fuller sense 
of that ebony-bottomed abyss, with its pale encircling 
walls reaching up to the dusky blue sky and the brilliant 
stars. There was absolutely no sound. 

He retraced his steps down, soon coming up with Ladd; 
and. together they picked a way back through the winding 
recesses of cliff. The campfire was smoldering. Ladd 
replenished it and lay down to get a few hours’ sleep, 
while Gale kept watch. The after part of the night wore 
10 135 


DESER1 GOLD 


on till the paling of stars, ehe thickening of gloom in* 
dicated the dark hour before dawn. The spot was se¬ 
cluded from wind, but the air grew cold as ice.. Gale 
spent the time stripping wood from a dead mesquite, In 
pacing to and fro, in listening. Blanco Sol stamped 
occasionally, which sound was all that broke the stillness 
Ladd awoke before the faintest gray appeared, The 
rangers ate and drank. When the black did lighten to 
gray they saddled the horses and led them out to the pass 
and down to the point where they had parted with Lash 
Here they awaited daylight. 

r " o Gale it seemed long in coming. Such a delay always 
aggravated the slow fire within him. He had nothing 
of Ladd’s patience. He wanted action. The gray shadow 
below thinned out, and the patch of mesquite made a 
blot upon the pale valley. Then day dawned. 

Still Ladd waited. He grew more silent, grimmer as 
the time of action approached. Gale wondered what the 
plan of attack would be. Yet he did not ask.. He waited 
ready for orders. 

The valley grew clear of gray shadow except under 
leaning walls on the eastern side. Then a straight column 
of smoke rose from among the tnesquiles Manifestly 
this was what Ladd had been awaiting He took the; 
long .405 from its sheath and fined the lever Then he 
lifted a cartridge belt from the pommel of his saddle 
Every ring held a shell and these shells were four inches 
long. He budded the belt round him* 

“Come on, Dick,” 

Ladd led the way down the slope until he reached a 
position that commanded the rising of the trail from a 
level. It was the only place a man or horse could leave 
the valley for the pass. 

“Dick, here’s your stand If any raider rides in range 
lake a crack at him. ♦ . . Now I want the lend of your 
boss.’’, 

“Blanco 801?” exclaimed Gale, mere in amaze that 
136 


RUNNING OF BLANCO SOL 


Ladd should ask for the horse than in reluctance; to lend 
him. 

“Will you let me have him?” Ladd repeated, almost 
curtly, 

“Certainly, Laddy” 

A smile momentarily chased the dark cold gloom that 
had set upon the ranger’s lean face. 

“Shore I appreciate it, Dick, I know how you care 
for that hoss. I guess mebbe Charlie Ladd has loved a 
hoss? An’ one not so good as Sol. I was only tryin’ 
your nerve, Dick, askin’ you without teliin* my plan. 
Sol won’t get a scratch, you can gamble on that! I’ll 
ride him down into the valley an’ pull the Greasers out 
m the open. They’ve got short-ranged carbines. They 
can’t keep out of range of the .405, an* I’ll be Likin’ the 
dust of their lead, Sabe, senor?” 

“ Laddyf You’ll run Sol away from the raiders when 
they chase you? Run him after them when they try 
fee get away?” 

“Shore. I’ll run all the time. They can’t gain on 
Sol, an he’ll run them down when I want Can yon beat 

it r 

“No. It ? s great! , , <. But suppose a raider comes out 
on Blanco Diablo?” 

I reckon that’s the one weak place in my plan, Fm 
aggerra* they’ll never think of that till it’s too late.. But 
if'they do, well, Sol can outrun Diablo, An’ I can always 
kill the white devil!” 

Ladd’s strange hate of the horse showed in the passion 
of his last words, in his hardening jaw and grim set lips. 

Gale’s hand went swiftly to the ranger’s shoulder, 

“Laddy. Don’t lull Diablo unless it’s to save your 

hfe” 

“AH right. But r by God, if I get a chance XU make 
Blanco Sol run him off his legs!” 

[te spoke no more and set about changing the length of 
vaTs stirrups. When be had them adjusted to suit he 

137 


DESERT GOLD- 

mounted and rode down the trail and out upon the level. 
He rode leisurely as if merely going to water his horse 
The long black rifle lying across Ms saddle, however, was 
ominous. 

Gale securely tied the other horse to a mesquite at 
hand, and took a, position behind a low rock over which 
he could easily see and shoot when necessary, He imag¬ 
ined Jim Lash in a similar position at the far end of the 
valley blocking the outlet. Gale had grown accustomed 
to danger and the hard and fierce feelings peculiar to it. 
But the coming drama was so peculiarly different in 
promise from all he had experienced, that he awaited the 
moment of action with thrilling intensity. In him stirred 
long, brooding wrath at these border raiders—affection 
for Belding. and keen desire to avenge the outrages he 
had suffered—warm admiration for the cold, implacable 
Ladd and his absolute fearlessness, and a curious throb¬ 
bing interest in the old, much-discussed and never- 
decided argument as to whether Blanco Sol was a fleeter, 
stronger horse than Blanco Diablo, Gale felt that he was 
to see a. race between these great rivals—the land of race 
that made men and horses terrible. 

Ladd rode a quarter of a mile out upon the flat before 
anything happened. Then a whistle rent the still- cold 
am A horse had seen or scented Blanco Sol The 
whistle was prolonged, faint, but clear. It made the blood 
thrum in Gale s ears. Sol halted. His head shot up with 
the old, wild, spirited sweep. Gale leveled his glass at 
the patch of mesquites. He saw the raideis running to 
an open place, pointing, gesticulating. The gW brought 
tnem so close that he saw the dark faces,. Suddenly they 
Drone and fled back'among the trees. Then he got only 
white and dark gleams of moving bodies, Evidently 
that moment was one of boots, guns, and saddles for the 
raiders. 

_ ^°wering the glass, Gale saw that Bianco So? had 
started forward again. His gait was now a canter and 
133 


RUNNING OF BLANCO SOL 


he had covered another quarter of a mile before horses 
and raiders appeared upon the outskirts of the mesquites. 
Then Blanco Sol stopped. His shrill, ringing whistle 
came distinctly to Gale’s ears. The raiders were mounted 
on dark horses, and they stood abreast in a motionless 
line. Gale chuckled as he appreciated what a puzzle the 
situation presented for them. A lone horseman in the 
middle of the valley did not perhaps seem so menacing 
himself as the possibilities his presence suggested. 

Then Gale saw a raider gallop swiftly from the group 
toward the farther outlet of the valley. This might have 
been owing to characteristic cowardice; but it was more 
likely a move of the raiders to make sure of retreat. 
Undoubtedly * Ladd saw this galloping horseman. A 
few waiting moments ensued. The galloping horseman 
reached the slope, began to climb. With naked eyes 
Gale saw a puff u of white smoke spring out of the rocks. 
Then the raider wheeled his plunging horse back to the 
level, and went racing wildly down the valley. 

The compact bunch of bays and blacks seemed to break 
apart and spread rapidly from the edge of the mesquites. 
Puffs of white smoke indicated firing, and showed Jhe 
nature of the raiders’ excitement. They were far out of 
ordinary range; but they spurred toward Ladd, shooting 
as they rode, Ladd held his ground: the big white horse 
stood like a rock in his tracks. Gale saw little spouts of 
dust rise in front of Bianco Sol and spread swift as sight 
to his rear. The raiders’ bullets, striking low, were skip¬ 
ping along the hard, bare floor of the valley. Then Ladd 
raised the long rifle. There was no smoke, but three 
high, spanging reports rang out, A gap opened in the 
dark line of advancing horsemen; then a riderless steed 
sheered off to the right, Blanco Sol seemed to turn as 
on a pivot and charged back toward the lower end of the 
valley. He circled over to Gale’s right and stretched out 
into his run. There were now five raiders in pursuit. 
%rid they came sweeping down, yelling and shooting, 
130 


DESERT GOLD 

evidently sure of their quarry. Ladd reserved his fire, 
tie kept turning from back to front in his saddle. 

Gale saw how the space widened between pursuers and 
pursued saw distinctly when Ladd eased up Sol’s run. 
nmg. Manifestly Ladd intended to try to lead the raidere 
round in front of Gale’s position, and, presently. Gale saw 
he was going to succeed. The raidere, riding like va- 

S®’ nl P ‘ u" m a cur ^ “ ttin S oft ' what Stance they 
f eU ° w -rider, liigh on his mount’s 
vV ' " a ^ ke y> led companions by many yards 
le seemed to be getting the range of Ladd,' or else he shot 
P & . h ’ for *“ s Pallets did not strike up the dust behind Sol 

W ulu y , t0 Blanco s °i Pounded by, his 

n.,pid, rhythmic hoofbeats plainly to be heard. He wa=- 
running easily. Wd “ 

, i Ga ’f, tned to R ri U the jump of heart and pulse, and 
umed his eye again on the nearest pursuer. This raider' 
was crossing m, his carbine held muzzle up in his ririit 
hano, and he was coming swiftly. It was a long shot 
upward or five hundred yards. Gale had rot h™ f ’ 

3 ,s L?d e of , phe ***£& sz 

n he SWiftIy mo ™g Mot lie 
10 snoot * The first bullet sent un a or*,+ * 

austbeneath the horse’s nose, making hfeSpSt £ 
11,-rtue a fence, lhe rifle was automatic; Gale needed 
umy .0 pull the trigger. He saw now that the raiders be. 

wJ « hue. Swiftly he worked the tnW r &H 
deny the leading horse leaped convulsively Mt ud no,’ 
asme but straight ahead, and then he cLS to the 

InTSlSTT 2 ^ rider Hke a ^ritpult, and then slid 
his rite Ler"mS “ P ’ ^ ** W <**: 

I he other rangers sawed the reins of plunging steeds 
and winxled to escape the unseen battery! G^ slS 

him^f f ,P mt ° the ma 8 a ® n e of his rifle". He ratrafetj 

Mng and gave **#* eyetoti“ 
br'-ow, Ladd began to shoot while Sol "was nmnfeg 
140 


RUNNING OF BLANCO SOL 

The .40s rang out sharply—then again. The heavy bill* 
lets streaked the dust all the way across the valley. Ladd 
aimed deliberately and puEed slowly, unmindful of the 
kicking dust-puffs behind Sol, and to the side. The raiders 
spurred madly in pursuit, loading and firing. They shot 
ten times while Ladd shot once, and aU in vain, and on 
'Ladd’s sixth shot a raider toppled backward, threw his 
carbine and feU with his foot catching in a stirrup. The 
frightened horse plunged away, dragging him in a path of 

dust. „ . . 

Gale jiad set himself to miss nothing of that fighting 
race, yet the action passed too swiftly for clear sight of 
all. Ladd had emptied a magazine, and now Blanco S01 
quickened and lengthened his running stride. He ran 
away from his pursuers. Then it was that the ranger s 
ruse was divined by the raiders. They hauled sharply 
up and seemed to be conferring. But that was a fata 
mistake. Blanco Sol was seen to break his gait and skw 
down in several jumps, then square away and stand stock¬ 
still Ladd fired at the closely grouped raiders* An 
instant passed. Then Gale heard the spat of a bullet 
out in front, saw a puff of dust, then heard tbs lead 
strike the rocks and go whining away. And it was alter 
this that one of the raiders fell prone from bis saddle. 
The steel-jacketed ,405 S one through ham on sis 

uninterrupted way to hum past Gale’s position. . 

The remaining two raiders frantically spurred their 
horses and fled up the valley. Ladd sent Sol after them. 
It seemed to Gale, even though he realized his excitement, 
that- Blanco Sol made those horses seem like snails, Lie 
raiders solit, one making for the eastern outlet, the other 
circling back of the mesquites. Ladd kept on after toe 
| a f+ e r Then puffs of white smoke ana rifle shots faintly 
crackling told of Jim Lash’s hand in the game. However, 
he succeeded only in driving the raider back mto the "• ai- 
w>_ But Ladd had turned the other horseman, and now 
it appeared the two raiders were between Lash aoove on 
141 


DESERT GOLD 


the stony slope and Ladd below on the level* There was 
desperate riding on part of the raiders to keep from being 
hemmed in closer. Only one of them got away, and he 
came riding for life down under the eastern wall. Blanco 
Sol settled into his graceful, beautiful swing. He gained 
steadily, though he was far from extending himself. By 
Gale’s actual count the raider fired eight times in that 
race down the valley, and all his bullets went low and 
wide. He pitched the carbine away and lost all control 
in headlong flight. 

Some few hundred rods to the left of Gale the raider 
put his horse to the weathered slope. He began to climb. 
The horse was superb, infinitely more courageous than his 
rider. Zigzag they went up and up, and when Ladd 
reached the edge of the slope they were high along the 
cracked and guttered rampart. Once—twice Ladd raised 
the long rifle, but each time he lowered it. Gale divined 
that the ranger’s restraint was not on account of the 
Mexican* but for that valiant and faithful horse. Up 
and up he went, arid the yellow dust clouds rose, and an 
avalanche rolled rattling and cracking down the slope 
It was beyond belief that a horse, burdened or unburdened, 
could find footing and hold it upon that wall of narrow 
ledges and inverted, slanting gullies. But he climbed on, 
sure-footed as a mountain goat, and, surmounting the last 
rough steps, he stood a moment silhouetted against the 
white sky. Then he disappeared. Ladd sat astride 
Blanco Sol gazing upward. How the cowboy must have 
honored that raider’s brave s^eed! 

Gale, who had been too dumb to shout the admiration 
he felt, suddenly leaped up, and his voice came with a 
shriek: 

“Look out, Labdy!” 

A big horse, like a white streak, was bearing down to 
the right of the ranger. Blanco Diablo! A matchless 
rider swung with the horse’s motion. Gale was stunned. 
Then he remembered the first raider, the one Lash had 
142 


RUNNING OF BLANCO SOL 

shot at and driven away from the outlet. This fellow 
had made for the mesquite and had put a saddle on Beld- 
ins's favorite/ In the heat of the excitement, while 
Ladd had been intent upon the climbing horse, this last 
raider had come down with the speed of the wind straight 
cor the western outlet. Perhaps, very probably, he cud 
not know Gale was there to block it; and certainty he 
hoped to pass Ladd and Blanco Sol, , , 

A touch of the spur made Sol lunge forward to head 
off the raider. Diablo was in his stride, but the distance 
and angle favored Sol. The raider had no carbine He 
held aloft a gun ready to level it and fire. He sat the 
saddle as if it were a stationary seat. Gale saw Ladd 
lean down and drop the .405 in the sand. He would take 
no chances of wounding Belding’s best-loved horse. ^ 
Then Gale sat transfixed with suspended breath watch¬ 
ing the horses thundering toward him, Blanco DiabiO was 
speeding low, fleet as an antelope, fierce and terrible m 
his devilish action, a horse for war and blood and death. 
He seemed unbeatable. Yet to see the magnificently rum 
nine Blanco Sol was but to court a doubt. Gale stood 
spellbound. He might have shot the raider; but he never 
thought of such a thing. The distance swiftly lessened 
Plain it was the raider could not make the opening ahead 
of Ladd. He saw it and swerved to the left, emptying 
his six-shooter as he turned. His dark face gleamed as 

he flashed by Gale. , . 

Blanco Sol thundered across. Then the race became 
straight away up the valley. Diablo was cold and Sol 
was hot: therein lay the only handicap and vantage, .t 
was a fleet, beautiful, magnificent race. Gale thrilled 
and exulted and yelled as his horse settled into a steadily 
swifter run and began to gain. . The dust rolled in a 
funnel-shaped cloud from the flying hoofs. The raider 
wheeled with gun puffing white, and Ladd ducked iow 

over the neck of his horse. , , u 

The gap between Diablo and Sol narrowed yard by 
143 


DESERT GOLD 


yard- At first It had been a wide one. The raider beat 
his mount and spurred, beat and spurred, wheeled round 
to shoot, then bent forward again. In his circle at the 
upper end of the valley he turned far short of the fumble 
of rocks. 

All the devil that was in Blanco Diablo had its ninoing 
on the downward stretch. The strange, cruel urge of 
bit and spur, the crazed rider who stuck like a burr upon 
him, the shots and smoke added terror to his natural violent 
temper. He ran himself off his feet. But he could not 
elude that relentless horse behind him. The running of 
Bianco Sol was that of a sure, remorseless driving power 
"‘-steadier—-stronger—swifter with every long and won¬ 
derful stride. 

The raider tried to sheer Diablo off closer under the 
wall., to make the slope where his companion had escaped 
But Diablo was uncontrollable. He was running wild, 
with breaking gait. Closer and closer crept that white, 
smoothly gliding, beautiful machine of speed. 

like one white flash following another, the two 
horses gleamed down the bank of a wash sad disappeared 
in clouds of dust.. 

Oak watched with strained and smarting eyes. The 
thick throb in his ears was pierced by faint sounds of gun* 
shots. Then he waited in almost unendurable suspense., 

Suddenly something whiter than the background of 
dust appeared above the low roll of valley floor Gale 
leveled, his glass. In the dear eirde shone Blanco Sol's? 
noble head with its long black bar from ears to nose 
Sol’s head was drooping now. Another second showed 
Dadd still in the saddle. 

The ranger was leading Blanco Diablo—spent—broker 
-dragging—riderless. 



m 



IX 


AN INTERRUPTED SIESTA 

N O sa&a ever had a more eloquent and beautiful plead 
er for his cause than bad Dicic Gale in Mercedes 
Castaneda. He peeped through the green, shining twigs 
of the palo verde that shaded bis door. Tne hour was 
high noon, .and the patio was sultry . The only sounds 
were the hum of bees in the flowers, and the Sow murmur 
of the Spanish girl’s melodious voice. Nell lay in the 
hammock, her hands behind her head, with rosy checks 
and anh eyes. Indeed, she looked rebellious Certain 
it was, Diels reflected, that the young Lady nad r uby re 
covered the wilful personality which had lain carman! 
for a while. Equally certain it seemed that Mercedes s 
earnestness was not, apparently having the effect, it should 

D : ck was inclined to be rebellious himself. Belding had 
kept the rangers in off the line and therefore pick bad 
been idle most of the time, and, thougn be .tned hard, he 
had been unable to stay far from Nell s wormy. He be¬ 
lieved she cared for him; but he could not catch her mom 
,'ong enough to verify Ms tormenting hope. When alone 
che was as illusi ve as a shadow, as quick as a flash, a* 
mysterious as a Yaqui. When he tned to. catch her m 
the garden or fields, or comer her in the patio, she eluded 
him, and left behind a memory of dark-blue, hauntog 
eves. It was that look in her eyes which lent bun hope, 
at other times, when it might have been possible for Die, 
to ,oeak, Nell clung closely to Mercedes. He had long 
ejeforc enlisted the loyal Mercedes in his cause, but u 
145 


desert gold 

both ° f thiS Nel1 had been m0re thau a match for them 

Gate pondered over an idea he had long revolved in 

v f ? W S n ddenly gaVe pIace to a decision 
tna, made his heart swell and his cheek bum. He peened 

again through the green branches to see Nell laughing at 
the fiery Mercedes. s g at 

vAthN% Sabe ’’\ he CaUed ’ m 0 ckingl y- and was delighted 
\/ith Nell s quick, amazed start. 

Se ' Sta " 3 " 1 ' 01 Mr ‘- “ d '“”0 >» 

The relation between Gale and Mrs. Belding had subtly 
and mcomprehensively changed. He understood her less 
S^ en at first he. divined an antagonism in her. If 
wlfit « ? W T she had stained the antagonism 

been forT 1 ” 2 1 ° t0 some “duence that must have 
been fondness for him. Gale was in no wise sure of h/r 
affection, and he had long imagined she was afraid of him 
* { SOm ® t J? ln f th ft he represented. He had gone on’ 

ddetM ^ ^ rly ’ though discreetly, with his rafhrt one¬ 
sided love affair; and as time passed he had grown teL 
conscious of what had seemed her unspoken opposition 
Gale had come to care greatly for Nell’s mother Not 

pkJ S - h t t ?- e comfort and strength of her home but 
also of the inhabitants of Forlorn River. Indian Mexican ’ 

A nd e th an r® ^ th ® Same to her “ troubIe or illness- 
“ nd then she was nurse, doctor, peacemaker helper 

was good and noble, and there was no^a child or "own 

Mrs" BeltS d!dt?° ** T ^ and bless her ’ But 
intense dtp r d S<5em happy ’ She w as brooding, 
of others- and sh” 2 ’ fo . r the happiness and welfare 
daughter thattwf WaS + domnated b y a worship of her 
Bdlnl tlXL as strange as it was pathetic. Mrs. 

pposed loss oi her father in the desert. Perhaps it; 
146 


AN INTERRUPTED SIESTA 

was the very unsolved nature of that loss which made 
it haunting. 

Mrs. Belding heard Dick’s step as he entered the kitchen, 
and, looking up, greeted him. 

“Mother,” began Dick, earnestly. Belding called her 
that, and so did Ladd and Lash, but it was the first time 
for Dick. “Mother —I want to speak to you.” 

The only indication Mrs. Belding gave of being startled 
was in her eyes, which darkened, shadowed with multi¬ 
plying thought. 

“I love Nell,” went on Dick, simply, “and I want you 
to let me ask her to be my wife.” 

Mrs. Belding’s face blanched to a deathly white. Gale, 
thinking with surprise and concern that she was going 
to faint, moved quickly toward her, took her arm. 

“Forgive me. I was blunt. . . . But I thought you 
knew.” 

“I’ve known for a long time,” replied Mrs. Belding. 
Her voice was steady, and there was no evidence of agita¬ 
tion except in her pallor. “Then you you haven t 
spoken to Nell ?” H 

^ Dick laughed. “I’ve been trying to get a chance to 
tell her. I haven’t had it yet. But she knows. There 
are other ways besides speech. And Mercedes has told 
her. I hope, I almost believe Nell cares a little for me.” 

“I’ve known that, too, for a long time,” said Mrs. 
Belding, low almost as a whisper. 

“You know!” cried Dick, with a glow and rush of feel* 
i ng. 

“Dick, you must be very blind not to see wnat has 

been plain to all of us-I guess—it couldn’t have been 

helped. You’re a splendid fellow. No wonder she loves 
you.” 

“Mother! You’ll give her to me?” 

She drew him to the light and looked with strange, 
piercing intentness into his face. Gale had never dreamea 
a woman’s eyes could hold such a world of thought ana 
147 
K 




DESERT GOLD 


feeling. It seemed all the sweetness of life was there, and 
all the pain. 

“Do you love her?” she asked. 

"With all my heart.” 

“You want to many her?” 

“Ah, I want to! As much as I want to live and work 
for Her. 

“ When would you marry her?” 

‘ ‘Why!. . . Just as soon as she will do it. To-morrow ?” 
Dick gave a wild, exultant little laugh. 

- Dick Gale, you want my Nell ? You love her just as 
she is—her sweetness—her goodness? Just herself, body 
ing?” 01 ^ ' ‘ ‘ There ’ s nothin g could change you—noth- 

"Dear Mrs. Belding, I love Nell for herself. If she 
loves me I ll be the happiest of men. There’s absolutely 
nothing that could make any difference in me.” 

But your people? Oh, Dick, you come of a proud 
annly. I can tell. I—I once knew a young man like 
you. A few months can’t change pride—blood. Years 
can i change them. You’ve become a ranger. You love 
tne anventure the wild life. That won't last. Perhaps 
you 11 settle down to ranching. I know you love the 
West. But, Dick, there’s your family-” 

If you want to know anything about my family J’l] 
tell you, interrupted Dick, with strong feeling. ‘‘I’ve 
no secrets about them or myself. My future and fcapoi- 
ness^are Nells to make. No one else shall count with 

—both 6 ”’ Dick ~ yOU may have her - God—bless—you 

Mrs. Belding s strained face underwent a swift and 
mobue relaxation, and suddenly she was weeping in 
t ^! 1 ,f, ely mmg!ed happiness and bitterness, 
not !> ly ’ T th f ! ” GaJe couM say no' more He dirl 
wiih^Z rt R e ^ a , m ?°f. scem ^Sly so utterly at variance 
wim Mrs. Belding s habitual temperament. But he nut 


eci.t5 




AN INTERRUPTED SIESTA 

his arm around her. In another moment she had gained 
command over herself, and, kissing him, she pushed him 
out of the door. 

“There! Go tell her, Dick. . . . And have some spunk 
about it!” 

Gale went thoughtfully back to his room. He vowed 
that he would answer for Nell’s happiness, if he had the 
wonderful good fortune to win her. Then ,emembering 
the hope Mrs. Belding had given him, Dick 1 ost his gravity 
in a hash, and something began to dance and ring within 
him. He simply could not keep his steps turned from 
the patio. Every path led there. His blood was throb¬ 
bing, his hopes mounting, his spirit ^oaring. He knew he 
had never before entered the patio with that inspirited 
presence. 

“Now for some spunk!” he said, under his breath. 

Plainly he meant his merry whistle and his buoyant 
step to interrupt this first languorous stage of the siesta 
which the girls always took during the hot hours. Nell 
had acquired the habit long before Mercedes came, to 
show how fixed a tiling it was in the life of the tropics. 
But neither girl heard him. Mercedes lay under the 
pah verde, her beautiful head dark and still upon a* 
cushion. Nell was asleep in the hammock. There was 
an abandonment in her deep repose, and a faint smile 
upon her face. Her sweet, red lips, with the soft, per¬ 
fect curve, had always fascinated Dick, and now drew 
him irresistibly. He had always been consumed with a 
desire to kiss her, and now he was overwhelmed with his 
opportunity. It would be a terrible thing to do, but if 
she did not awaken at once— No„ he would fight the 
temotation. That would be more than spunk. It 
would— Suddenly an ugly green fly sailed low over 
Nell, appeared about to alight on her. Noiselessly Dick 
stepped close to the hammock bent under the tree, and 
with a sweep of his hand chased the intruding fly away. 
But be found himself powerless to straighten up* He 
149 


DESERT GOLD 

was close to her—bending over her face—near the sweet 
lips. The insolent, dreaming smile just parted them. 
Then he thought he was lost. But she stirred—he feared 
she would awaken. 

He had stepped back erect when she opened her eyes. 
They were sleepy, yet surprised until she saw him. Then 
she was wide awake in a second, bewildered, uncertain. 

‘‘Why you here?” she asked, slowly. 

Large as life! replied Dick, with unusual gayety. 

“How long have you been here?” 

“Just got here this fraction of a second,” he replied 
lying shamelessly. 

It was evident that she did not know whether or not 
to believe him, and as she studied him a slow blush dyed 
her cheek. 

\ou are absolutely truthful when you say you iust 
stepped there?” 

“Why, of course,” answered Dick, right glad he did not 
have to lie about that. 

“I thought—I was—dreaming,” she said, and evidently 
the sound of her voice reassured her. 

“Yes, you looked as if you were having pleasant 
dreams, replied Dick. “So sorry to wake you. I 
can’t see how I came to do it, I was so quiet. Mercedes 
didn’t wake. Well, I’ll go and let you have your sTesta 
and dreams.” 

But he did not move to go. Nell regarded him with 
curious, speculative eyes. 

“Isn’t it a lovely day?” queried Dick. 

“I think it’s hot.” 

“Only ninety in the shade. And you’ve told me the 
mercury goes to one hundred and thirty in midsummer, 
ihis is just a glorious golden day.” 

‘‘Yesterday was finer, but you didn’t notice it.” 

Oh, yesterday was somewhere back in the past—the 
inconsequential past.” 

Nell’s sleepy blue eyes opened a little wider. She did 
150 


AN INTERRUPTED SIESTA 

not know what to make of this changed young maiL 
Dick felt gleeful and tried hard to keep the fact from 
becoming manifest. 

“Wliat’s the inconsequential past? You seem remark* 
ably happy to-day.” 

“I certainly am happy. Adios. Pleasant dreams.” 

Dick turned away then and left the patio by the opening 
into the yard. Nell was really sleepy, and when she had 
fallen asleep again he would return. He walked around 
for a while. Belding and the rangers were shoeing a 
broncho. Yaqui was in the field with the horses. Blanco 
Sol grazed contentedly, and now and then lifted his head 
to watch. His long ears went up at sight of his master, 
and he whistled. Presently Dick, as if magnet-drawn, 
retraced his steps to the patio and entered noiselessly. 

Nell was now deep in her siesta. She w r as inert, re¬ 
laxed, untroubled by dreams. Her hair was damp on her 
brow. 

Again Nell stirred, and gradually awakened. Her eyes 
unclosed, humid, shadowy, unconscious. They rested 
upon Dick for a moment before they became clear and 
comprehensive. Pie stood back fully ten feet from her, 
and to all outside appearances regarded her calmly. 

“I’ve interrupted your siesta again,” he said. “Please 
forgive me. I’ll take myself off.” 

He wandered away, and when it became impossible for 
him to stay away any longer he returned to the patio. 

The instant his glance rested upon Nell’s face he di¬ 
vined she was feigning sleep. The faint rose-blush had 
paled. The warm, rich, golden tint of her skin had fled. 
Dick dropped upon his knees and bent over her. Though 
his blood was churning in his veins, his breast laboring, 
iiis mind whirling with the wonder of that moment and 
its promise, he^nade himself deliberate. He wanted more 
than anything he had ever wanted in his life to see if she 
would keep up that pretense of sleep and let him kiss her. 
She must have felt his breath, for her hair waved off he'' 

U *' 151 


DESERT GOLD 


brow. Her cheeks were now white. Her breast swelled 
and sank. He bent down closer—closer. But he must 
have been maddeningly slow, for as he bent still closer 
Nell’s eyes opened, and he caught a swift purple gaze of 
eyes as she whirled her head. Then, with a little cry 
she rose and fled. 


% 


ROJAS 


N O word from George Thome had come to Forlorn 
River in weeks. Gale grew concerned over the fact, 
and began to wonder if anything serious could have 
happened to him. Mercedes showed a slow, wearing 
strain. 

Thome’s commission expired the end of January, and 
if he could not get his discharge immediately, he surely 
could obtain leave of absence. Therefore, Gale waited, 
not without growing anxiety, and did his best to cheer 
Mercedes. The first of February came bringing news of 
rebel activities and bandit operations in and around 
Casita, but not a word from the cavalryman. 

Mercedes became silent, mournful. Her eyes were 
great black windows of tragedy. Nell devoted herself 
entirely to the unfortunate girl; Dick exerted himself to 
persuade her that all would yet come well; in fact, the 
whole household could not have been kinder to a sister 
or a daughter. But their united efforts were unavailing. 
Mercedes seemed to accept with fatalistic hopelessness 
a last and crowning misfortune. 

A dozen times Gale declared he would ride in to Casita 
and find out why they did not hear from Thome; how¬ 
ever, older and wiser heads prevailed over his impetuosity. 
Belding was not sanguine over the safety of the Casita 
trail. Refugees from there arrived every day in Forlorn 
River, and if the tales they told were true, real war would 
have .been preferable to what was going on along the 
border. Belding and the rang rs ard the Yaqui held a 
a IC 3 


DESERT GOLD 


consultation. Not only had the Indian become a faith* 
ful servant to Gale, but he was also of value to IB elding. 
Yaqui had all the craft of his class, and superior intelli¬ 
gence. His knowledge of Mexicans was second only to 
his hate ox them. And Yaqui, who had been scouting on 
all the trails, gave information that made Belding decide 
to wait some days before sending any one to Casita. He 
required promises from his rangers, particularly Gale, 
not to leave without his consent. 

It was upon Gale’s coming from this conference that he 
encountered Nell. Since the interrupted siesta episode 
she had been more than ordinarily elusive, and about all 
he had received from her was a tantalizing smile from a 
distance^ He got the impression now, however, that she 
had awaited him. When he drew close to her he was 
certain of it, and he experienced more than surprise. 

Dick, she began, hurriedly. u Dad’s not going to 
send any one to see about Thome?” 

'‘No, not yet. He thinks it best not to. We all think 
so. I’m sorry. Poor Mercedes!” 

I knew it. I tried to coax him to send Daddy or even 
Yaqui. Pie wouldn’t listen to me. Dick, Mercedes is 
dying by inches. Can’t you see what ails her ? It’s more 
than love or fear. It’s uncertainty—suspense. Oh, can’t | 
we find out for her?” 

“Nell, I feel as badly as you about her. I wanted to 
ride in to Casita. Belding shut me up quick, the last 
time.” 

Nell came close to Gale, dasped Ms arm. There was 
no color in her face. Her eyes held a dark, eager excite- 
ment. 

. “Dick, will you slip off without Dad’s consent? Risk 
it! Go to Casita and find out what’s happened to Thorne 

at least if he ever started for Forlorn River?” 

“No, Nell, I won’t do that.” 

She drew away from him with passionate suddenness 

“Are you afraid?” 

154 




ROJAS 

This certainly was not the Nell Burton that Gale 
knew. 

“No, I’m not afraid,” Gale replied, a little nettled. 

“Will you go—for my sake?” Like lightning her mood 
changed and she was close to him again, hands on his, 
her face white, her whole presence sweetly alluring. 

“Nell, I won’t disobey Belding,” protested Gale. “I 
won’t break my word.” 

“Dick, it ’ll not be so bad as that. But—what if it 
is? . . . Go, Dick, if not for poor Mercedes’s sake, then 
for mine—to please me. I’ll—I’ll... you won’t lose any- 
thing by going. I think I know how Mercedes feels. 
Just a word from Thome or about him would save her. 
Take Blanco Sol and go, Dick. What rebel outfit could - 
ever ride you down on that horse? Why, Dick, if I was 
up on Sol I wouldn’t be afraid of the whole rebel army.” 

“ My dear girl, it’s not a question of being afraid. It’s 
my word—my duty to Belding.” 

“You said you loved me. If you do love me you will 
go. . . . You don’t love me!” 

Gale could only stare at this transformed girl. 

“Dick, listen! ... If you go—if you fetch some word 
of Thome to comfort Mercedes, you—well, you will have 
your reward.” > 

“ Nell ./” 

Her dangerous sweetness was as amazing as this newly 
revealed character. 

“Dick, will you go?” 

“No—no!” cried Gale, in violence, struggling with him¬ 
self. “Nell Burton, I’ll tell you this. To have the 
reward I want would mean pretty near heaven for me. 
But not even for that will I break my word to youi 
father.” 

She seemed the incarnation of girlish scorn and wilful 
passion. 

“ Gracias, senor,” she replied, mockingly, "Actios ” 
Then she flashed out of his sight. 

i55 


DESERT GOLD 

Gale went to his room at once, disturbed and thrilling^ 
and did not soon recover from that encounter. 

The following morning at the breakfast table Nell was 
not present. Mrs. Belding evidently considered the fact 
somewhat unusual, for she called out into the patio and 
then into the yard. Then she went to Mercedes’s room. 
But Nell was not there, either. 

4< “She’s in one of her tantrums lately,” said Belding. 
“Wouldn’t speak to me this morning. Let her alone, 
mother. She’s spoiled enough, without running after 
her. She’s always hungry. Shell be on hand present¬ 
ly, don't mistake me.” 

Notwithstanding Belding’s conviction, which Gale 
shared, Nell did not appear at all during the hour. When 
Belding and the rangers went outside, Yaqui was eating 
his meal on the bench where he always sat. 

Yaqui Lluvia cT oro, siV ’ asked Belding, waving his 
hand toward the corrals. The Indian’s beautiful name 
for Nell meant “shower of gold,” and Belding used it 
in asking Yaqui if he had seen her. He received a nega¬ 
tive reply. 

rerhaps half an hour afterward, as Gale was leaving 

h r SaW the Yaqui mnnin S the path from 
the fields. It was markedly out of the ordinary to see 
the Indian run. Gale wondered what was the” matter. 
y aqui ran straight to Belding, who was at work at his 
bench under the wagon shed. In less than a moment 
Belding was bellowing for his rangers. Gale got to him 
nrst, but Ladd and Lash were not far behind. 

“Blanco Sol gone!” yelled Belding, in a rage 

. ,‘‘,? 0Tle \ 1x1 broad da y%ht, with the Indian a-wateh- 
m r queried Ladd. 

It happened while Yaqui was at breakfast. That’s 
sure. He’d just watered Sol.” 

“Raiders!” exclaimed Jim Lash. 

2^°^^ Yaqui says il wasn ’t raiders/’ 

Mebbe Sol s just walked off somewheres.” 


ROJAS 

“He was haltered in the corral." 

“Send Yaqui to find the hoss’s trail, an’ let’s figger,” 
said Ladd. “Shore this’s no raider job." 

In the swift search that ensiled Gale did not have 
anything to say; but his mind was forming a conclusion. 
When he found his old saddle and bridle missing from 
the peg in the bam his conclusion became a positive con¬ 
viction, and it made him, for the moment, cold and sick 
and speechless. 

“Hey, Dick, don’t take it so much to heart/' said 
Belding. “We’ll likely find Sol, and if we don’t, there’s 
other good horses." 

“I’m not thinking of Sol,** replied Gale 

Ladd cast a sharp glance at Gale, snapped his fingers, 
and said: 

“Damn me if I ain’t guessed it, too!” 

“What’s wrong with you locoed gents?” bluntly de 
manded Belding. 

“Nell has slipped away on Sol,’’ answered Dick 

There was a blank pause, which presently Belding 
broke. 

“Well, that’s all right, if Nell’s on him I was afraid 
we’d lost the horse." 

“Belding, you’re trackin’ bad,” said Ladd r wagging 
his head. 

“Nell has started for Casita,” burst out Gale "She 
has gone to fetch Mercedes some word about Thome 
Oh, Belding, you needn’t shake your head. I know she's 
gone.' She tried to persuade me to go, and was furious 
when I wouldn’t." 

“I don’t believe it," replied Belding, hoarsely M NeU 
may have her temper. She’s a little devil at time;, but 
cbe always had good sense." 

“Tom, you can gamble she’s gone,” said Ladd 

“Aw, hell, no! Jim, what do you think?” implored 
Belding. 

“I reckon Sol’s white head is pointed level an straight 


DESERT GOLD 

down the Casita trail. An’ Nell can ride. We’re iosin 
time.” 

That roused Belding to action. 

‘‘I say you’re all wrong,” he yelled, starting for the 
corrals. “ She’s only taking a little ride, same as she’s 
done often. But rustle now. Find out. Dick, you ride 
cross the valley. Jim, you hunt up and down the river. 
Ill head up San Felipe way. And you, Laddy, take Diablo 
and hit the Casita trail. If she really has gone after 
Thome you can catch her in an hour or so.” 

“Shore I’ll go,” replied Ladd. “But, Beldin’, if you’re 
not plumb crazy you’re close to it. That big white devil 
can t catch Sol. Not in an hour or a day or a week l 
What’s more, at the end of any runnin’ time, with an 
even start, Sol will be farther in the lead. An’ now Sol’s 
got an hour’s start.” 

“Laddy, you mean to say Sol is a faster horse than 
Diablo?” thundered Belding, his face purple. 

“ Shore. I mean to tell you just that there,” replied 
the ranger. 

“I’n—I’ll bet a-—” 

“We’re wastin’ time,” curtly interrupted Ladd. “You 
can gamble on this if you want to. I’ll ride your Blanco 
Devil as he never was rid before, ’cept once when a damn 
sight better hossman than I am couldn’t make him out¬ 
run Sol” 

Without more words the men saddled and were off, not 
waiting for the Yaqui to come in with possible information 

to what trail Blanco Sol had taken. It certainly did 
not show in the clear sand of the level valley where*Gale 
rode to and fro. When Gale returned to the house he 
found Belding and Lash awaiting him. They did not 
mention their own search, but stated that Yaqui had 
found Blanco Sol’s tracks in the Casita trail. After some 
consultation Belding decided to send Lash along after 
Ladd. 

The interminable time that followed contained for 
_I.S3 


ROJAS 

Gale about as much suspense as he could well bear- 
What astonished him and helped him greatly to fight oft 
actual distress was the endurance of Nell’s mother. 

Early on the morning of the second day, Gale, who had 
acquired an unbreakable habit of watching, saw three 
white horses and a bay come wearily stepping down the 
road. He heard Blanco Sol’s familiar whistle, and he 
leaped up wild with joy. The horse was riderless. Gale’s 
sudden joy received a violent check, then resurged when 
he saw a hmp white form in Jim Lash’s arms. Ladd was 
supporting a horseman who wore a military uniform. 

Gale ^shouted with joy and ran into the house to tell 
the good news. It was the ever-thoughtful Mrs. Beld* 
ing who prevented him from rushing in to tell Mercedes. 
Then he hurried out into the yard, closely followed by 
the Beldings. 

Lash handed down a ragged, travel-stained, wan girl 
into Belding’s arms. 

“Dad! Mama!” 

It was indeed a repentant Nell, but there was spirit yet 
in the tired blue eyes. Then she caught sight of Gale 
and gave him a faint smile. 

“Hello—Dick.” 

“Nell!” Gale reached for her hand, held it tightly, 
and found speech difficult. 

“You needn’t worry—about your old horse,” she said, 
as Belding carried her toward the door. “Oh, Dick! 
Blanco Sol is—glorious!” 

Gale turned to greet his friend. Indeed, it was but a 
haggard ghost of the cavalryman. Thome looked ill o t 
wounded. Gale’s greeting was also a question full of fear. 

Thome’s answer was a faint smile. He seemed ready 
to drop from the saddle. Gale helped Ladd hold Thome 
upon the horse until they reached the house. Belding 
came out again. His welcome was checked as he saw 
the condition of the cavalryman. Thome reeled into 
Dick’s arms. But he was able to stand and walk. 
i59 


DESERT GOLD 

I'm not—hurt. Only weak—starved,” he said ‘‘Is 
.Mercedes— Take me to her.” 

“She’ll be well the minute she sees him,” averred Beld- 
ing, as he and Gale led the cavalryman to Mercedes’s 
room. There they left him; and Gale, at least, felt his 
ears ringing with the girl’s broken cry of joy. 

When Belding and Gale hurried forth again the rangers 
were tending the tired horses. Upon returning to the 
house Jim Lash calmly lit his pipe, -and Ladd declared 
that, hungry as he was, he had to tell his story, 
n- -^ nle ’ ® e ^ n ’>’ began Ladd, “that was funny about 
Uit nlo catchin’ Bianco Sol. Funny ain’t the word I 
nearly laughed myself to death. Well, I rode in Sol’s 
tracks ah the way to Casita. Never seen a rebel or a 
raiaer ull I got to town. Figgered Nell made the trip in 
hve hours. I went straight to the camp of the cavalry¬ 
men, an found them just coolin’ off an’ dressin’ down 
then-bosses after what looked to me like a big ride. I 
got tnfcre too late for the fireworks. 

“Some soldier took me to an officer’s tent. Nell was 
mere, some white an’ all in. She just said. ‘Laddy!’ 
Thome was there, too, an’ he was bein’ worked over by 
the camp doctor. I didn’t ask no questions, because I 
seen quiet was needed round that tent. After satisfying 
myseit that Nell was all right, an’ Thome in no danger 
I went out. s * 

“Shore there was so dam many fellers who wanted to 
an tried to tell me what’d come off, I thought I’d never 
and out. But I got the story piece by piece. An’ here’s 
what Jiappened. 

“Nell rode Blanco Sol a-teariu’ into camp, an’ had a 
crowd round her in a jiffy. She told who she was, where 
sue d come from, an’ what she wanted. Well, it seemed 
a day or so before Neli got there the cavalrymen had heard 
word of Thome. You see, Thome had left the camp on 
leave of absence some time before. He was shore mys¬ 
terious, they said, an’ told nobody where he was goin'. 

. rSo 


ROJAS 

A week or so after he left camp some Greaser give it 
away that Rojas had a prisoner in a dobe shack near his 
camp. Nobody paid much attention to what the Greaser 
said. He wanted money for mescal. An’ it was usual 
for Rojas to have prisoners. But in a few more days it 
turned out pretty sure that for some reason Rojas was 
holdin’ Thorne. 

“Now it happened when this news came Colonel Weeds 
was in Nogales with his staff, an’ the officer left in charge 
didn’t know how to proceed. Rojas’s camp was across 
the line in Mexico, an’ ridin’ over there was serious busi¬ 
ness. It meant a whole lot more than just scatterin’ one 
Greaser camp. It was what had been botherin’ more’n 
one colonel along the line. Thome’s feller soldiers was 
anxious to get him out of a bad fix, but they had to watt 
for orders. 

“When Nell found out Thome was bein’ starved an’ 
beat in a dobe shack no more’n two mile across the line, * 
she shore stirred up that cavalry camp. Shore! She 
told them soldiers Rojas was holdin’ Thome—torturin' 
him to make him tell where Mercedes was. She told 
about Mercedes—how sweet an’ beautiful she was—how 
her father had been murdered by Rojas—how she had 
been hounded by the bandit—how ill an’ miserable she 
was, waitin’ for her lover. An’ she begged the cavalry¬ 
men to rescue Thome. 

“From the way it was told to me I reckon them cavalry¬ 
men went up in the air. Fine, fiery lot of young bloods, 

I thought, achin’ for a scrap. But the officer in charge, 
bein’ in a ticklish place, still held out for liigher orders. 

“Then Nell broke loose. You-all know Nell’s tongue 
is sometimes like a choya thorn. I’d have give somethin’ 
to see her work up that soldier outfit. Nell’s never so 
pre? ty as when, she’s mad. An’ this last stunt of hers was 
no girly tantrum, as Beldin’ calls it. She musta been 
ragin’ wild all the hell there’s in a woman. . . . Can’t you 
fellers see rer on Blanco Sol with her eyes turnin’ black 5 '” 

ioi 


DESERT GOLD 


Ladd mopped his sweaty face with his dusty scarf. 
He was beaming. He was growing excited, hurried , in 
his narrative. 

‘‘Right out then Nell swore she’d go after Thome, if 
them cavalrymen couldn’t ride with a Western girl to save 
a brother American—let them hang back! One feller, 
under orders, tried to stop Blanco Sol. An’ that feller 
invited himself to the hospital. Then the cavalrymen 
went flyin’ for their hosses. Mebbe Nell’s move was just 
foxy—woman’s cunnin’. But I’m thinkin’ as she felt 
then she’d have sent Blanco Sol straight into Rojas’s 
camp, which, I’d forgot to say, was in plain sight. 

“ It didn’t take long for every cavalryman in that camp 
to get wind of what was cornin’ off. Shore they musta 
been wild. They strung out after Nell in a thunderin’ 
troop. 

“Say, I wish you fellers could see the lane that bunch 
of hosses left in the greasewood an’ cactus. Looks like 
there’d been a cattle stampede on the desert. . . . Bianco 
Sol stayed out in front, you can gamble on that. Right 
into Rojas’s camp! Sabe , you senors? Gawd Almighty! 
I never had a grief that’d hold a candle to this one of 
bein’ too late to see Nell an’ Sol in their one best race. 

“Rojas an’ his men vamoosed without a shot. That 
ain’t surprisin’. There wasn’t a shot fired by anybody. 
The cavalrymen soon found Thome an’ hurried with him 
back on Uncle Sam’s land. Thome was half naked, black 
an’ blue all over, thin as a rail. He looked mighty sick 
when I seen him first. That was a little after midday. 
He was given food an’ drink. Shore he seemed a starved 
man. But he picked up wonderful, an’ by the time Jim 
came along he was wantin’ to start for Forlorn River. 
So was Nell. By main strength as much as persuasion 
we kept the two of them quiet till next evenin’ at dark. 

“Well,,,we made as sneaky a start in the dark as Jim 
an’ me could manage, an’ never hit the trail til! we was 
miles from town. Thorne's nerve held him up for a 


ROJAS 

while. Then all at once he tumbled out of his sadtb- , 
We got him back, an’ Lash held him on. Nell didn't 
give out till daybreak.” 

As Ladd paused in his story Belding began to stutter, 
and finally he exploded. His mighty utterances were in* 
coherent. But plainly the wrath he had felt toward the 
wilful girl was forgotten. Gale remained gripped by 
silence. 

“I reckon you’ll all be some surprised when you see 
Casita,” went on Ladd. “It’s half burned an’ half tore 
down. An’ the rebels are livin’ fat. There was rumors 
of another federal force on the road from Case Grandes, 
I seen a good many Americans from interior Mexico, an' 
the stories they told would make your hair stand up. 
They all packed guns, was fightin’ mad at Greasers, an' 
sore on the good old U. S. But shore glad to get over 
the line! Some were waitin’ for trains, which don’t ran 
regular no more, an’ others were ready to hit the trails 
I north.” 

“Laddy, what knocks me is Rojas holding Thome 
; prisoner, trying to make him tell where Mercedes had 
I been hidden,” said Belding. 

! “Shore. It ’d knock anybody.” 

“The bandit’s crazy over her. That’s the Spanish of 
it,” replied Belding, his voice rolling. “Rojas is a peon. 

\ He’s been a slave to the proud Castilian. He loVes Mer* 

\. cedes as he ha' ?s her. When I was down in Durango I 
! i saw something of these peons’ insane passions. Rojas 
wants this girl only to have her, then kill her. It’s damn 
strange, boys, and even with Thome here our troubles 
I have just begun.” 

“Tom, you spoke correct,” said Jim Ladd, in his cool 
| drawl. 

“Shore I’m not sayin’ what I think,” added Ladd. But 
the look of him was not indicative of a tranquil optimism. 

Thome was put to bed in Gale’s room. He was very 
weak, yet he would keep Mercedes’s hand and gaze at 
_A 6 3 





DESERT GOLD 


her with unbelieving eyes. Mercedes’s failing hold on 
hope and strength seemed to have been a fantasy; she 
was again vivid, magnetic, beautiful, shot through’and 
through with intense and throbbing life. She induced 
him to, take food and drink. Then, fighting sleep with 
what little strength he had left, at last he succumbed. 

ucr all Dick could ascertain his friend never stirred 
an eyelash nor a finger for twenty-seven hours. When he 
awoke he was pale, weak, but the old Thome. 

"Hello, Dick; I didn’t dream it then.” he said. “There 
you are, and my darling with the proud, dark eyes—she’s 
here?” 

“Why, yes, you locoed cavalryman.” 

“Say, what’s happened to you? It can’t be those 
clothes and a little bronze on your face. . . . Dick, you’re 
older-—you’ve changed. You’re not so thickly built. 
By Gad, if you don’t look fine!” 

“Thanks. I’m sorry 1 can’t return the compliment. 
\ ou’re about the seediest, hungriest-looking Mow I ever 
saw. . . . Say, old man, you must have had a tough time ” 

A dark and somber fire burned out the happiness in 
i home’s eyes. 

“Dick, don’t make me—don’t let me think of that 
fiend Rojas! . . .I’m here now. I’ll be well in a dav or 
two. Then! ...” 

Mercedes came in, radiant and soft-voiced She fell 
upon her knees beside Thome’s bed, and neither of them 
appeared to see Nell enter with a tray. Then Gale and 
Nell made a good deal of unnecessary bustle in moving a 
small table close to the bed. Mercedes had forgotten 
ior the moment that her lover had been a starving man. 
If Thome remembered it he did not care. They held 
hands and looked at each other without speaking" 

“Nell, I thought I had it bad,” whispered Dick. “But 
I’m not—” 

“Hush. It’s beautiful,” replied Nell, softly; and she 
trie$ to coax Dick from the room. 

164 


ROJAS 

Dick, however, thought he ought to remain at least 
long enough to tell Thorne that a man in his condition 
could not exist solely upon love. 

Mercedes sprang up blushing with pretty, penitent 
manner and moving white hands eloquent of her condition. 

“Oh, Mercedes—don’t go!” cried Thome, as she stepped 
to the door. 

“Sehor Dick will stay. He is not mucha malo for you 
—as I am.” 

Then she smiled and went out. 

“Good Lord!” exclaimed Thorne. “How I love her. 
Dick, isn’t she the most beautiful, the loveliest, the 
finest—” 

“George, I share your enthusiasm,” said Dick, dryly, 
“but Mercedes isn’t the only girl on earth.” 

Manifestly this was a startling piece of information, 
and struck Thome in more than one way. 

“George,” went on Dick, “did you happen to observe 
the girl who saved your life—who incidentally just fetched 
in your breakfast?” 

“Nell Burton! Why, of course. She’s brave, a won¬ 
derful girl, and really nice-looking.” 

“You long, lean, hungry beggar! That was the young 
lady who might answer the raving eulogy you just got 
out of your system. . . . I—well, you haven’t cornered the 
love market!” 

Thome uttered some kind of a sound that his weakened 
condition would not allow to be a whoop. 

“Dick! Do you mean it?” 

“J shore do, as Laddy says.” 

Tm glad, Dick, with all my heart. I wondered at the 
changed look you wear. Why, boy, you’ve got a differ¬ 
ent. front. . . . Call the lady in, and you bet I’ll look her 
over right. I can so? better now.” 

“Eat your breakfast. There’s plenty of time to dazzle 
you afterward.” 

Thome fell to upon his breakfast and made it variish 
165 





DESERT GOLD 


with magic speed. Meanwhile Dick told him something 
of a ranger’s life along the border. 

“You needn’t waste your breath,” said Thome. “I 
guess I can see. Belding and those rangers have made 
you the real thing—the real Western goods. . . . What I 
want to know is all about the girl.” 

“Well, Laddy swears she’s got your girl roped in the 
corral for looks.” 

“That’s not possible. I’ll have to talk to Laddy. . . . 
But she must be a wonder, or Dick Gale would never 
have fallen for her. . . . Isn’t it great, Dick? I’m here! 
Mercedes is well—safe! You’ve got a girl! Oh! . . . 
But say, I haven’t a dollar to my name I had a lot of 
money, Dick, and those robbers stole it, my watch— 
everything. Damn that little black Greaser! He got 
Mercedes’s letters. I wish you could have seen him try¬ 
ing to read them. He’s simply nutty over her, Dick. I 
could have borne the loss of money and valuables—but 
those beautiful, wonderful letters—they’re gone!” 

“Cheer up. You have the girl. Belding will make 
you a proposition presently. The future smiles, old 
friend. If this rebel business was only ended!” 

“Dick, you’re going to be my savior twice over. . . A 
Well, now, listen to me.” His gay excitement changed 
to earnest gravity. “I want to marry Mercedes at once. 
Is there a padre here?” 

“Yes. But are you wise in letting any Mexican, even 
a priest, know Mercedes is hidden in Forlorn River?” 

“It couldn’t be kept much longer.” 

Gale was compelled to acknowledge the truth of this 
statement. 

“I’ll marry her first, then I’ll face my problem. Fetch 
the padre, Dick. And ask our kind friends to be wit¬ 
nesses at the ceremony.” 

Much to Gale’s surprise neither Belding nor Ladd ob¬ 
jected to the idea of bringing a padre into the household, 
and thereby making known to at least one Mexican the 
166 




ROJAS 

whereabouts of Mercedes Castaneda. Belding r s caution 
was wearing out in wrath at the persistent unsettled con¬ 
dition of the border, and Ladd grew only the cooler and 
more silent as possibilities of trouble multiplied. 

Gale fetched the padre, a little, weazened, timid man 
who was old and without interest or penetration. Ap¬ 
parently he married Mercedes and Thome as he told his 
beads or mumbled a prayer. It was Mrs. Belding who 
kept the occasion from being a merry one, and she in¬ 
sisted on not exciting Thome. Gale marked her un¬ 
usual pallor and the singular depth and sweetness of her 
voice. 

“Mother, what’s the use of making a funeral out of a 
marriage?” protested Belding. “A chance for some fun 
doesn’t often come to Forlorn River. You’re a fine doc¬ 
tor. Can’t you see the girl is what Thome needed? 
He’ll be w T ell to-morrow, don’t mistake me.” 

“George, when you’re all right again we’ll add some¬ 
thing to present congratulations,” said Gale. 

“We shore will,” put in Ladd. 

So with parting jests and smiles they left the couple 
to themselves. 

Belding enjoyed a laugh at his good wife’s expense, foi 
Thome could not be kept in bed, and all in a day, it 
seemed, he grew so well and so hungry that his friends 
were delighted, and Mercedes was radiant. In a few days 
his weakness disappeared and he was going the round of 
the fields and looking over the ground marked out in 
Gale’s plan of water development. Thome was highly 
enthusiastic, and at once staked out his claim for one 
hundred and sixty acres of land adjoining that of Belding 
and the rangers. These five tracts took in all the ground 
necessary for their operations, but in case cf the success 
of the irrigation project the idea was to increase their 
squatter holdings by purchase of more land down the 
valley. A hundred families had lately moved to For¬ 
lorn River; more were coming all the time; and Belding 

12 i6? 


DESERT GOLD 


rowed he could see a vision of the whole Altar Valley 
green with farms. 

Meanwhile everybody in Belding’s household, except 
the quiet Ladd and the watchful Yaqui, in the absence of 
disturbance of any kind along the border, grew freer and 
more unrestrained, as if anxiety was slowly fading in the 
peace of the present. Jim Lash made a trip to the Sonoyta 
Oasis, and Ladd patrolled fifty miles of the line eastward 
without incident or sight of raiders. Evidently all the 
border hawks were in at the picking of Casita. 

The February nights were cold, with a dry. icy, pene¬ 
trating coldness that made a warm fire most comfortable. 
Belding’s household usually congregated in the sitting- 
room, where burning mesquite logs crackled in the open 
fireplace. Belding’s one passion besides horses was the 
game of checkers, and he was always wanting to play. 
On this night he sat playing with Ladd, who never won 
a game and never could give up trying. Mrs. Belding 
worked with her needle, stopping from time to time to 
gaze with thoughtful eyes into the fire. Jim Lash smoked 
his pipe by the hearth and played with the cat on bis 
knee. Thome and Mercedes were at the table with pencil 
and paper; and he was trying his best to keep his atten¬ 
tion from his wife’s beautiful, animated face long enough 
to read and write a little Spanish. Gale and Nell sat in a 
comer watching the bright fire. 

There came a low knock on the door. It may have 
'been an ordinary knock, for it did not disturb the 
women; but to Belding and his rangers it had a subtle 
meaning. 

" Who’s that?” asked Belding, as he slowly pushed back 
his chair and looked at Ladd. 

“Yaqui,” replied the ranger. 

“Come in,” called Belding. 

The door opened, and the short, square, powerfully 
built Indian entered. He liad^ a magnificent head, 
strangely staring, somber black eves, and v6rv dcwklv 
168 


ROJAS 

bronzed face. He carried a rifle and strode with im¬ 
pressive dignity. 

“Yaqui, what do you want?” asked Belding, and re¬ 
peated his question in Spanish. 

“Seno-»* Dick,” replied the Indian. 

Gale jumped up, stifling an exclamation, and he went 
outdoors with Yaqui. He felt his arm gripped, and ah 
lowed himself to be led away without asking a question. 
Yaqui’s presence was always one of gloom, and now his 
stem action boded catastrophe. Once clear of trees he 
pointed to the level desert across the river, where a row 
of campfires shone bright out of the darkness. 

“Raiders!” ejaculated Gale. 

Then he cautioned Yaqui to keep sharp lookout, and, 
hurriedly returning to the house, he called the men out 
and told them there were rebels or raiders camping just 
across the line. 

Ladd did not say a word. Belding, with an oath, 
slammed down his cigar. 

“ I knew it was too good to last. . . . Dick, you and Jim 
stay here while Laddy and I look around.” 

Dick returned to the sitting-room. The women were 
nervous and not to be deceived. So Dick merely said 
Yaqui had sighted some lights off in the desert, and they 
probably were campfires. Belding did not soon return, 
and when he did he was alone, and, saying he wanted to 
consult with the men, he sent Mrs. Belding and the girls 
to their rooms. His gloomy anxiety had returned. 

“ Laddy’s gone over to scout around and try to And out 
who the outfit belongs to and how many are in it,” said 
Belding. 

“I reckon if they’re raiders with bad intentions we 
wouldn’t see no fires,” remarked Jim, calmly. 

“It’d be useless, I suppose, to send for the cavalry,** 
said Gale. “ Whatever’s coming off would be over before 
the soldiers could be notified, let alone reach here.” 

“Hell, fellows! I don’t look for an attack on Forlorn 

r(>r* 


DESERT GOLD 

River, burst out Belding. “I can’t believe that p /•. 
sible. These rebel-raiders have a little sense. They 
wouldn’t spoil their game by pulling U. S. soldiers across 
the line from Yuma to El Paso., But, as Jim says, if they 
wanted to steal a few horses or cattle they wouldn’t build 
fires. I’m afraid it’s—” 

Belding hesitated and looked with grim concern at the 
cavalryman. 

“What?” queried Thome. 

“I’m afraid it’s Rojas.” 

Thome turned pale but did not lose his nerve. 

“ 1 thought of that at once. If true, it ’ll be terrible for 
Mercedes and me. But Rojas will never get his hands 
on my wife. If I can’t kill him, I’ll kill her!.,. Belding, 
this is tough on you-—this risk we put upon your family’ 
I regret—-” 

M “Cut that kind of talk,” replied Belding, bluntly. 
“Well, if it is Rojas he’s acting damn strange for a raider. 
That’s what worries me. We can’t do anything but wait. 
With Baddy and Yaqui out there we won’t be surprised. 
Let’s take the best possible view of the situation until we 
know more. That ’ll not likely be before to-morrow.” 

The women of the house might have gotten some sleep 
that night, but it was certain the men did not get anv 
Morning broke cold and gray, the roth of February. 
Breakfast was prepared earlier than usual, and an air 
of suppressed waiting excitement pervaded the place. 
Otherwise the ordinary details of the morning’s work con¬ 
tinued as on any other day. Ladd came in hungry and 
cold, and said the Mexicans were not breaking camp' He 
reported a good-sized force of rebels, and was taciturn as 
to ins idea of forthcoming events. 

About an hour after sunrise Yaqui ran in with the in- 
f0 ^?u 10n part the rebels were crossing the tivex 
That can’t mean a fight yet,” declared Belding. 
But get m the house, boys, and make ready anyway 
111 meet them.” 


ROJAS 

“Drive them off the place same as if you had a com¬ 
pany of soldiers backin’ you,” said Ladd. “Don’t give 
rhem an inch. We’re in bad, and the bigger bhiff we put 
up the more likely our chance.” 

“ Belding, you’re an officer of the United States. Mexi¬ 
cans are much impressed by show of authority. I’ve seen 
that often in camp,” said Thome. 

“Oh, I know the white-livered Greasers better than 
any of you, don’t mistake me,” replied Belding. He was 
pale with rage, but kept command over himself. 

The rangers, with Yaqui and Thome, stationed them¬ 
selves at the several windows of the sitting-room,. Rifles 
and smaller arms and boxes of shells littered the tables 
and window seats. No small force of besiegers could over¬ 
come a resistance such as Belding and his men were ca¬ 
pable of making. 

“Here they come, boys,” called Gale, from his window. 
“Rebel-raiders I should say, Laddy.” 

“Shore. An’ a fine outfit of buzzards!” 

“Reckon there’s about a dozen in the bunch,” observed 
the calm Lash. “Some hosses they’re ridin'. Where ’n 
the hell do they get such hosses, anyhow?” 

“Shore, Jim, they work hard an’ buy ’em with real 
silver pesos,” replied Ladd, sarcastically. 

“Do any of you see Rojas?” whispered Thome. 

“Nix. No dandy bandit in that outfit.” 

“It’s too far to see,” said Gale. 

The horsemen halted at the corrals. They were orderly 
and showed no evidence of hostility. They were, however, 
fully armed. Belding stalked out to meet them. Ap¬ 
parently a leader wanted to parley with him, but Help¬ 
ing would hear nothing. He shook his head, waved his 
arms, stamped to and fro, and his loud, angry voice could 
be heard clear back at the house. Whereupon the 
detachment of rebels retired to the bank of the river, 
beyond the white post that marked the boundary line, 
and there they once more drew rein. Belding remained 

171 


DESERT GOLD 


by the corrals watching them, evidently still in threat¬ 
ening mood. Presently a single rider left the troop and 
trotted his horse back down the road. When he reached 
the corrals he was seen to halt and pass something to 
Belding. Then he galloped away to join his comrades. 

Belding looked at whatever it was he held in his hand, 
shook his burly head, and started swiftly for the housed 
He came striding into the room holding a piece of soiled 
paper. 

“Can’t read it and don’t know as I want to,” he said, 
savagely. 

“ Be!din\ shore we’d better read it,” replied Ladd, 
“What we want is a line on them Greasers. Whether 
they re Campo’s men or Salazar’s, or just a wanderin’ 
bunch of rebels—or Rojas’s bandits. Sabe , senor?” 

Not one of the men was able to translate the garbled 
scrawl. 

“Shore Mercedes can read it,” said Ladd. 

Thome opened a door and called her. She came into 
the room followed by Nell and Mrs. Belding. Evidently 
all three divined a critical situation. 

“My dear, we want you to read what’s written on this 
paper,” said Thome, as he led her to the table. “ It was 
sent in by rebels, and—and we fear contains bad news 
for us.” 

Mercedes gave the writing one swift glance, then fainted 
in Thome’s arms. He carried her to a couch, and with 
Nell and Mrs. Belding began to work over her. 

Belding looked at his rangers. It was characteristic 
of the man that, now when catastrophe appeared inevi¬ 
table, all the gloom and care and angry agitation passed 
from him. 

Laddy, it s Rojas all right. How many men bar he 
out there?” 

“Mebbe twenty. Not more.” 

“We can lick twice that many Greasers.” 

“Shore.” 

172 


ROJAS 

Jim Lash removed his pipe long enough to speak. 

“I reckon. But it ain’t sense to start a fight when 
mebbe we can avoid it.” 

“What’s your idea?” 

“ Let’s stave the Greaser off till dark. Then Laddy an’ 
me an’ Thome will take Mercedes an’ hit the trail for 
Yuma.” 

“Camino del Diablo! That awful trail with a womans 
Jim, do you forget how many hundreds of men have 
perished on the Devil’s Road?” 

“I reckon I ain’t forgettin’ nothin’,” replied Jim. 
“The waterholes are full now. There’s grass, an’ we 
can do the job in six days.” 

“It’s three hundred miles to Yuma.” 

“Beldin’, Jim’s idea hits me pretty reasonable,” inter¬ 
posed Ladd. “Lord knows that’s about the only chance 
we’ve got except fightin’.” 

“ But suppose we do stave Rojas off, and you get safely 
away with Mercedes. Isn’t Rojas going to find it out 
quick ? Then what ’ll he try to do to us who ’re left here ?” 

“I reckon he’d find out by daylight,” replied Jim. 
“But, Tom, he ain’t agoin’ to start a scrap then. He’d 
want time an’ hosses an’ men to chase us out on the trail. 
You see, I’m figgerin’ on the crazy Greaser wantin’ the 
girl. I reckon he’ll try to clean up here to get her. But 
he’s too smart to fight you for nothin’. Rojas may be 
nutty about women, but he’s afraid of the U. S. ^ Take 
my word for it he’d discover the trail in the momin’ an’ 
light out on it. I reckon with ten hours’ start we could 

travel comfortable.” . 

Belding paced up and down the room. Jim and Lada 
whispered together. Gale walked to the. window and 
looked out at the distant group of bandits, and then 
turned his gaze to rest upon Mercedes. She was con¬ 
scious now, and-her eyes seemed all the larger and blacker 
for the whiteness of her face. Thome neld her hands, 
and the other women were trying to still her tremblings. 
i73 


DESERT GOLD 


' No one but Gale saw the Yaqui in the background looking 
down upon, the Spanish girl. All of Yaqui’s looks were 
strange; but this was singularly so. Gale marked it, and 
fek he would never forget. Mercedes’s beauty had never 
before struck him as being so exquisite, so alluring as 
now when she lay stricken. Gale wondered if the Indian 
was affected by her loveliness, her helplessness, or her 
terror. - aqui had seen Mercedes only a few times, and 
upon each of these he had appeared to be fascinated. 
Could the strange Indian, because his hate for Mexicans 
was so great, be gloating over her misery? Something 
about A aqui—a noble austerity of countenance—made 
Gale feel his suspicion unjust. 

Presently Balding called his rangers to him, and then 
Theme 


Listen to this,” he said, earnestly. ‘Til go out and 
have a talk with Rojas. I’ll try to reason with him; tell 
him to think a long time before he sheds blood on Uncle 
Sam s soil, i hat he’s now after an American’s wife! 

I’ll net commit myself, nor will I refuse outright to con¬ 
sider his demands, nor will I show the least fear of him. 

I’ll P^y for time. If my bluff goes through . . . well and § 
good, . , . After dark the four of you, Laddy, Jim, Dick, 
and. Thome, will take Mercedes and my best "white horses* 
and, with Yaqui as guide, circle round through Altar Val¬ 
iev to the trail, and head for Yuma.. >. Wait now, Ladd^a 
Let me finish. I want you to take the white horses for 
two reasons—to save them and to save you. Savvy 5 
If Rojas should follow on my horses he’d" be likely to 
catch you. Also, you can pack a great deal mere than 
on fne bronchs. Also, the big horses can travel faster 
and farther on little grass and water. I want you 10 take « 
the Indian, because in a case of this kind he’ll be a god- 
send. If you get headed or lost or have to circle off the 1 
trail, think what it'd mean to have a Yaqui with you. ' i 
Le knows Sonora as no Greaser knows it. He could 
hide you, find water and grass, when you would aUo 


I J4 



ROJAS 

lutely believe it impossible. The Indian is loyal. Ke has 
his debt to pay, and he’ll pay it, don’t mistake me. When 
you’re gone I’ll hide Nell so Rojas won t see her he 
searches the place. Then I tnink I could sit down and 
wait without any particular worry.” 

The rangers approved of Belding’s plan, and Thome 
choked in his effort to express his gratitude. 

“All right, we’ll chance it,” concluded Belding. “i’ll 
go out now and call Rojas and his outfit over. . . . Sa_ , 
it might be as. well for me to know just what he said in 
that paper.” 

Thome went to the side of his wife. 

“Mercedes, we’ve planned to outwit Rojas. Will you 
tell us just what he wrote?” 

The girl sat up, her eyes dilating, and with her hands 
clasping Thome’s. She saici: 

“Rojas swore—by his saints and his virgin—that ii 1 
wasn’t given—to him—in twenty-four hours—he would 
set tire to the village—kill the men—carry off the women 
—hang the children on cactus thorns!” 

A moment’s silence followed her last halting whisper. 

“By his saints an’ his virgin!” echoed Ladd. He 
laughed—a cold, cutting, deadly laugh-rignificant and 

terrible. . , ^ . , 

Then the Yaqui uttered a singular cry. wie had 
heard this once before, and now he remembered it was at 

the Papago Well. „ „ ,, . 

“Look at the Indian,” whispered Belding, hoarsely, 
“ Damn if I don’t believe he understood every word Mer¬ 
cedes said. And, gentlemen, don’t mistake me i£ he ever 
gets near Senor Rojas there’ll be some gory Aztec knife 

' Yaqui had moved close to Mercedes, and stood beside 
her as she leaned against her husband. She seamed im¬ 
pelled to meet the Indian’s gaze, and evidently it was so 
powerful or hypnotic that it wrought irresistibly upon 
• v r. But she must have seen or divined what war- oe- 

175 


DESERT GOLD 


yond the others, for she offered him her trembling hand. 
Yaqui took it and laid it against his body in a strange 
motion, and bowed his head. Then he stepped back into 
the shadow of the room. 

Belding went outdoors while the rangers took up their 
former position at the west window. Each had his own 
somber thoughts. Gale imagined, and knew his own were 
dark enough. A slow fire crept along his veins. He saw 
Belding halt at the corrals and wave his hand. Then the 
rebels mounted and came briskly up the road, this time 
to rein in abreast. 

Wherever Rojas had kept himself upon the former ad* 
van.ce was not clear; but he certainly was prominently in 
sight now. He made a gaudy, almost a dashing figure. 
Gale did not recognize the white sombrero, the crimson 
scarf, the velvet jacket, nor any feature of the dandy’s 
costume; but their general effect, the whole ensemble, 
recalled vividly to mind his first sight of the bandit. 
Rojas dismounted and seemed to be listening. He be¬ 
trayed none of the excitement Gale had seen in him that 
night at the Del Sol. Evidently this composure struck 
Ladd and Lash as unusual in a Mexican supposed to be 
laboring under stress of feeling. Belding made gestures, 
vehemently bobbed his big head, appeared to talk with his 
body as much as with his tongue. Then Rojas was seen 
to reply, and after that it was clear that the talk became 
painful and difficult. It ended finally in what appeared 
to be mutual understanding. Rojas mounted and rode 
away with his men, while Belding came tramping back 
to the house. 

As he entered the door his eyes were shining, his big 
hands were clenched, and he was breathing audibly. 

“You can rope me if I’m not locoed!” he burst out. “ I 
went out to conciliate a red-handed little murderer, and 
damn me if I didn t meet a—a—well, I’ve no suitable 
name handy. I started my bluff and got along pretty 
well, but I forgot to mention that Mercedes was Thome’s 
176 


ROJAS 

wife. And what do you think? Rojas swore he loved 
Mercedes—swore he’d marry her right here in Forlorn 
River—swore he would give up robbing and killing peo¬ 
ple, and take her away from Mexico. He has gold— 
jewels. He swore if he didn’t get her nothing mattered. 
He’d die anyway without her. . . . And here’s the strange 
thing. I believe him! He was cold as ice, and all hell 
inside. Never saw a Greaser like him. Well, I pretended 
to be greatly impressed. We got to talking friendly, I 
suppose, though I didn’t understand half he said, and I 
imagine he gathered less what I said. Anyway, without 
my asking he said for me to think it over for a day and 
then we’d talk again.” 

“Shore we’re bom lucky!” ejaculated Ladd. 

“I reckon Rojas ’ll be smart enough to string his out¬ 
fit across the few trails leadin’ out of Forlorn River,” re¬ 
marked Jim. 

‘‘ That needn’t worry us. All we want is dark to come,” 
replied Belding. “ Yaqui will slip through. If we thank 
any lucky stars let it be for the Indian.... Now, boys, put 
on your thinking caps. You’ll take eight horses, the pick 
of my bunch. You must pack all that’s needed for a 
possible long trip. Mind, Yaqui may lead you down into 
some wild Sonora valley and give Rojas the slip. You 
may get to Yuma in six days, and maybe in six weeks. 
Yet you’ve got to pack light—a small pack in saddles—** 
larger ones on the two free horses. You may have a big 
fight. Laddy, take the .405. Dick will pack his Rem¬ 
ington. All of you go gunned heavy. But the main 
thing is a pack that ’ll be light enough for swift travel, 
yet one that ’ll keep you from starving on the desert.” 

The rest of that day passed swiftly. Dick had scarcely 
a word with Nell, and all the time, as he chose and de¬ 
liberated and worked over his little pack, there was a 
dull, pain in his heart. 

The sun set, twilight fell, then night closed down for¬ 
tunately a night slightly overcast. Gale saw the white 
1.77 


DESERT GOLD 

horses pass his door like silent ghosts. Even Blanco 
Diablo made no sound, and that fact was indeed a tribute 
to the Yaqui. Gale went out to put his saddle on Blanco 
Sol. The horse rubbed a soft nose against his shoulder. 
Then Gale returned to the sitting-room. There was 
nothing more to do but wait and say good-by. Mer¬ 
cedes came clad in leather chaps and coat, a slim stripling 
Oi a cowboy, her aark eyes flashing. Her beauty could 
not be hidden, and now hope and courage had flred her 
blood. 

Gale drew Nell off into the shadow of the room. She 
Vv as trembling, ana as she leaned toward him she was very 
different from the coy girl who had so long held him aloof. 
He took her into his arms. 

“Dearest, I’m going-soon. . . . And maybe I’ll 
never—” 

Dick, do don t say it,” sobbed Nell, with her head 
on his breast. 

“I might never come back,” he went on, steadily. “I 
love you I’ve loved you ever since the first moment I 
saw you. Do you care for me—a little?” 

“ Dear Dick—de-dear Dick, my heart is breaking,” 
faltered Nell, as she clung to him. 

“It might be breaking for Mercedes—for Laddy and 
Jim. I want to hear something for myself. Something 
to have on long marchas—round lonely campfires. Some¬ 
thing to keep my spirit alive. Oh, Neil, you can’t imagine 
that silence out there—that terrible world of sand and 
stone! . . . Do you love me?” 

“Yes, yes. Oh, I love you so! I never knew it till 
now. I love you so. Dick, I’ll be safe and I’ll wait— 
and hope and pray for your return.” 

If I come back no —when I come back, will you 
many me?” 

, A y ? s! ” she whispered, and returned his kiss, 

weeding was in the room speaking softly. 

"Nell, darling, I must go,” said Dick. " 

178 


:^ojas 

“I’m a selfish little coward,” cried Nell. “It’s sc 
splendid of you all. I ought to glory in it, but i can’t. 
. . . Fight if you must, Dick. Fight for that lovely per¬ 
secuted girl. I’Ll love you—the more. . . . Oh* Good- 
by! Good-by!” 

With a wrench that shook him Gale let her go. He 
heard Belding’s soft voice. 

“ Yaqui says the early hour’s best. Trust him, Laddy. 
Remember what I say—Yaqui’s a godsend.” 

Then they were all outside in the pale gloom under the 
trees. Yaqui mounted Blanco Diablo; Mercedes was 
lifted upon White Woman; Thome climbed astride 
Queen; Jim Lash was already upon his horse, which was 
as white as the others but bore no name; Ladd mounted 
the stallion Blanco Torres, and gathered up the long 
halters of the two pack horses; Gale came last with 
Blanco Sol. 

As he toed the stirrup, hand on mane and pommel. 
Gale took one more look in at the door. Nell stood in 
the gleam of light, her hair shining, face like ashes, her 
eyes dark, her lips parted, her arms outstretched. That 
sweet and tragic picture etched its cruel outlines into 
Gale’s heart. He waved his hand and then fiercely 
leaped into the saddle. 

Blanco Sol stepped out. 

Before Gale stretched a line of moving horses, white 
against dark shadows. He could not see the head of 
that column; he scarcely heard a soft hocfbeat. A single 
star shone out of a rift in thin clouds. There was no 
wind. The air was cold. The dark space of desert seemed 
to yawn. To the left across the river flickered a few camp¬ 
fires. The chill night, silent and mystical, seemed to 
close in upon Gale; and he faced the wide, quivering,, 
black level with keen eyes and grim intent, and an awaken¬ 
ing of that wild rapture which came like a spell to him by 
the open desert. 




ACROSS CACTUS AND LAVA 


B LANCO SOL showed no inclination to bend his head 
to the alfalfa which swished softly about his legs 
biale felt the horse’s sensitive, almost human alertness, 
bol knew as well as his master the nature of that flight 
At the far comer of the field Yaqui halted, and slowly 
the hne of white horses merged into a compact mass, 
ihere was a trail here leading down to the river The 
campfires were so close that the bright blazes could be 
seen m movement, and dark forms crossed in front of 
them. Yaqui slipped out of his saddle. He ran his hand 
over Diablo s nose and spoke low, and repeated this action 
for each of the other horses. Gale had long ceased to 
question the strange Indian’s behavior. There was no 
explaining or understanding many of his manceuvers. 
But the results of them were always thought-provoking 
Gale had never seen horses stand so silently as in this in¬ 
stance; no stamp—no champ of bit—no toss of head- 
no shake of saddleor pack—no heave or snort! It seemed 
they bad become imbued with the spirit of the Indian. 

, a< l u * move d away into the shadows as noiselesslv as 
tj k? ^ ere one of them. The darkness swallowed him. 
lie had taken a direction parallel with the trail. Gale 
wondered if Yaqui meant to try to lead his string of horses 
by the rebel sentinels. Ladd had his head bent low his 
ear toward the trail. Jim’s long neck had the arch of a 
listening deer. Gale listened, too, and as the slow, silent 
moments went by his faculty of hearing grew more acute 
frcm strain. He heard Blanco Sol breathe; he heard >ho 
180 


ACROSS CACTUS AND LAVA 

pound of his own heart; he heard the silken rustle of the 
alfalfa; he heard a faint, far-off sound of voice, like a lost 
echo. Then his ear seemed to register'a movement of 
air, a disturbance so soft as to be nameless. Then fol¬ 
lowed long, silent moments. 

Yaqui appeared as he had vanished. He might have 
been part of the shadows. But he was there. He started 
off down the trail leading Diablo. Again the white line 
stretched slowly out. Gale fell in behind. A bench of 
ground, covered with sparse greasewood, sloped gently 
down to the deep, wide arroyo of Forlorn River. Blanco 
Sol shied a few feet out of the trail. Peering low with 
keen eyes, Gale made out three objects—a white som¬ 
brero, a blanket, and a Mexican lying face down.. The 
Yaqui had stolen upon this sentinel like a silent wind of 
death. Just then a desert coyote wailed, and the wild 
cry fitted the darkness and the Yaqui’s deed. 

Once under the dark lee of the river bank Yaqui caused 
another halt, and he disappeared as before. It seemed to 
Gale that the Indian started to cross the pale level sand- 
bed of the river, where stones stood out gray, and the 
darker Hne of opposite shore was visible. But he van¬ 
ished, and it was impossible to tell whether he went one 
way or another. Moments passed. The horses held 
heads up, looked toward the glimmering campfires and 
listened. Gale thrilled with the meaning of it all—the 
night—the silence—the flight—and the wonderful Indian 
stealing with the slow inevitableness of doom upon another 
sentinel. An hour passed and Gate seemed to have be* 
come deadened to all sense of hearing. There were no 
more sounds in the world. The desert was as silent as 
it was black. Yet again came that strange change m 
the tensity of Gate’s ear-strain, a check, a break, a, vibra¬ 
tion—and this time the sound did not go nameless. It 
might have been moan of wind or wail of far-distant wolf, 
but Gale imagined it was the strangling death-cry of 
another guard, or that strange, involuntary utterance of 
1.81 


DESERT GOLD 

the YaquI Blanco Sol trembled in all his great frame, 
and then Gale was certain the sound was not imagination. 

that certainty, once for all, feed in Gale’s mind the 
mood of his flight. The Yaqui dominated the horses and 
the angers Thome and Mercedes were as persons under 
a spell. The Indian’s strange silence, the feeling of mys¬ 
tery and power he seemed to create, all that was incom¬ 
prehensible about him were emphasized in the IGht of 
his slow, sure, and ruthless action. If he dominated the 
others, surely he did more for Gale—colored his thoughts 
—presaged the wild and terrible future of that flight If 
Rojas embodied all the hatred and passion of the peon 
scourged slave for a thousand years—then Yaqui em- 
, darkness, the cruelty, the white, sun- 

hmted blood the ferocity, the tragedy of the desert. 

suddenly the Indian stalked out of the gloom. He 
mounted Diablo and headed across the river. "Once more 
the line of moving white shadows stretched out The 
soft sand gave forth no sound at all. The glimmering 
campuies sank behind the western bank. Yaqui led the 
way mto the willows, and there was faint swishing of 
eaves; tnen into the mesquite, and there was faint rust- 
. ,1 '-’ ranches ; The glimmering lights appeared again, 
and grotesque .orms of saguaros loomed darklv Gale 
peered sharply along the trail, and, presently, on'the pale 
sand under a cactus, there lay a blanketed' fomi, prone 
outstretchea, a carbine clutched in one hand, a cigarette’ 
stdl burning, in the other. s ’ 

•Irij 1 ? <a , Val< f de of . white horses Passed within five hun¬ 
dred yards of campfires, around which d*rk forms moved 

of rtl^r S °i ft PadS “ Sand ’ faint metallic tickings 

of rteel on thorns, low, regular breathing of horses—these' 

rnr lf U t sou “ ds the fugitives made, and they could 

a L 0ne - fifth the distance. The 


182 


■^en; 


ACROSS CACTUS AND LAVA 


opened ahead wide, dark, vast. Rojas and his rebels 
were behind, eating, drinking, careless. The somber 
shadow lifted from Gale’s heart. He held now an un¬ 
quenchable faith in the Yaqui. Belding would be lis¬ 
tening back there along the river. He would know of the 
escape. He would tell Nell, and then hide her safely. 
As Gale had accepted a strange and fatalistic foreshadow¬ 
ing of toil, blood, and agony in this desert journey, so he 
believed in Mercedes’s ultimate freedom and happiness, 
and his own return to the girl who had grown dearer than 
life. 

A cold, gray dawn was fleeing before a rosy sun when 
Yaqui halted the march at Papago Well. The horses 
were taken to water, then led down the arroyo into the 
grass. Here packs were slipped, saddles removed. Mer¬ 
cedes was cold, lame, tired, but happy. It warmed Gale’s 
blood to look at her. The shadow of fear still lay in her 
eyes, but it was passing. Hope and courage shone there, 
and affection for her ranger protectors and the Yaqui, 
and unutterable love for the cavalryman. Jim Lash re¬ 
marked how cleverly they had fooled the rebels. 

‘‘Shore they’ll be cornin’ along,” replied Ladd. 

They built a fire, cooked and ate. The Yaqui spoke 
only one word: “Sleep.” Blankets were spread. Mer¬ 
cedes dropped into a deep slumber, her head on Thome’s 
shoulder. Excitement kept Thome awake. The two 
rangers dozed beside the fire. Gale shared the Yaqui’s 
watch. The sun began to climb and the icy edge of dawn 
to wear away. Rabbits bobbed their cotton tails under 
the mesquite. Gale climbed a rocky wall above the 
arroyo bank, and there, with command over the miles 
of the back-trail, he watched. 

It was a sweeping, rolling, wrinkled, and streaked range 
of desert that he saw, ruddy in the morning sunlight, wittt 
patches of cactus and mesquite rough-etched in shimmer¬ 
ing gloom. No Name Mountains split the eastern sky , 
i? iS* 


DESERT GOLD 

towering high, gloomy, grand, with purple veils upon 
their slopes. They were forty miles away and looked five. 
Gale thought of the girl who was there under their shadow. 

Yaqui kept the horses bunched, and he led them from 
one little park of galleta grass to another. At the end of 
three hours he took them to water. Upon his return Gale 
clambered down from his outlook, the rangers grew active, 
Mercedes was awakened; and soon the party faced west¬ 
ward,. their long shadows moving before them. Yaqui 
led with. Blanco Diablo in a long, easy lope. The arroyo 
washed itself out into flat desert, and the greens began 
to shade into gray, and then the.gray into red. Only 
sparse cactus and weathered ledges dotted the great low 
roll of a rising escarpment. Yaqui suited the gait of his 
horse to the lay of the land, and his followers accepted his 
pace. There were canter and trot, and swift walk and 
slow climb, and long swing—miles up and down and for¬ 
ward.. The sun soared hot. The heated air lifted, and 
incoming currents from the west swept low and hard over 
the barren earth. In the distance, all around the horizon, 
accumulations of dust seemed like ranging, mushrooming 
yellow clouds. s 

i WaS t ^ le on * y one fugitives who never 

looked back. Mercedes did it the most. Gale felt what 
compelled her, he could not resist it himself. But it was 
a vam search. For a thousand puffs of white and vellow 
dust rose from that backward sweep of desert, and any 
one of them might have been blown from under horses’ 
Hoots. Gale had a conviction that when Yaqui gazed 
sack toward the well and the shining plain beyond, "there 
would be reason for it. But when the sun lost its heat 
and the wind died down Yaqui took long and careful sur¬ 
veys westward from the high points on the trail. Sunset 
was not far off, and there in a bare, spotted valley lay 
Coyote Tanks, the only waterhole between Papago Well 
and. the Sonoyta Oasis. Gale used his glass, told Yaoui 
mere was no smoke, no sign of life; still the Indiartfixed 
184 


across cactus and lava 

his falcon eyes on distant spots and looked long. It wai 
as if his vision could not detect what reason or cunnings 
or intuition, perhaps an instinct, told him was there. 
Presently in a sheltered spot, where blown sand had not 
obliterated the trail, Yaqui found the tracks of horses. 
The curve of the iron shoes pointed westward. An in¬ 
tersecting trail from the north came in here. Gale thought 
the tracks either one or two days old. Ladd said they 
were one day. The Indian shook his head. 

No farther advance was undertaken. The Yaqui 
headed south and traveled slowly, climbing to the brow 
of a bold height of weathered mesa.. There he sat his 
horse and waited. No one questioned him. -he rangers 
dismounted to stretch their legs, and Mercedes was lifted 
to a rock, where she rested. Thome had gradually yielded 
to the desert’s influence for silence. He spoke once or 
twice to Gale, and occasionally whispered to Mercedes. 
Gal- fancied his friend would soon learn that necessary 
speech in desert travel meant a few greetings, a few 
words to make real the fact of human companionship, 
a few short, terse terms for the business 01 day or 
night, and perhaps a stem order or a soft call to a 

h °The sun went down, and the golden, rosy veils turned 
to blue and shaded darker till twilight was there m tne 
valley. Only the spurs of mountains, spiring[the near and 
far horizon, retained their clear outline. ^Darkness ap¬ 
proached, and the clear peaks faded. The horses stamped 

to be on the move. 

“ Malo /” exclaimed the Yaqui. 

He did not point with arm, but his falcon head was 
outstretched, and his piercing eyes gazed at the blurring 
spot which marked the location of Coyote Tanks. 

“Jim, can you see anything?’’ asked Ladd. 

“Nope, but I reckon he can.” 

Darkness increased momentarily till night shaded the 
deepest part of the valley. ^ 


desert gold 


Then Ladd suddenly -straightened up, turned to his 
horse, and muttered low under his breath 

I reckon so,” said Lash, and for once his easy 
good-natured tone was not in evidence. His voice wm 

f-nSS eyes> k ® en “ th ey were, were last of the rangers 
in the biaX" P tS ° f ^ jUSt faintly P^ble 

“Laddy! Campfires?” he asked, quickly. 

^bnores you re bom, my boy.” 

‘How many?” 

Coyote TattL^ ,ne ° thel tr °° p was at 

stretched wide his right ami in the direction of No Name 

S-SSi t0Ward the Son ° yta ° asis with S r e sam; 

bS ££. hit.." 

almost a sulien reluctance which Gale had never teen^n 

them before. Raiders were one thine r„Z “ 

other; Camino del Diablo still anoth e ; ; but thlf vast 
arid desolate and unwatered waste of cactus atf'l 
the Sonora Desert, might appal the stouteS heS St 
felt his own sink-felt himself flinch. Gale 

Oh, where is he going?” cried Mercedes TW ^ • 
nant voice seemed to break a spell. ' P 2 ' 

tlv goin ’ home -” replied Ladd, gen- 

y* An considenn our troubles T rpnlm-rt \ ” 

thank God he knows the way.” ° Ught * 

286 


ACROSS CACTUS AND LAVA 

They mounted and rode down the slope toward the 
darkening south. 

Not until night travel was obstructed by a wall of 
cactus did the Indian halt to make a dry camp. Water 
and grass for the horses and fire to cook by were not to 
be had. Mercedes bore up surprisingly; but she fell 
asleep almost the instant her thirst had been allayed. 
Thome laid her upon a blanket and covered her. The 
men ate and drank. Diablo was the only horse that 
showed impatience; but he was angry, and not in distress. 
Blanco Sol licked Gale’s hand and stood patiently. Many 
a time had he taken his rest at night without a drink. 
Yaqui again bade the men sleep. Ladd said he would 
take the early watch; but from the way the Indian shook 
his head and settled himself against a stone, it appeared 
if Ladd remained awake ie would have company. ^ Gale 
lay down weary of limb and eye. He heard the soft thump 
of hoofs, the sough of wind in the cactus—then no more. 

When he awoke there was bustle and stir about him. 
Day had not yet dawned, and the air was freezing cold. 
Yaqui had found a scant bundle of greasewood which 
served to warm them and to cook breakfast. Mercedes 
was not aroused till the last moment. . 

Day dawned with the fugitives in the saddle. A 
picketed wall of cactus hedged them in, yet the Yaqui 
made a tortuous path, that, zigzag as it might, m the 
main always headed south. It was wonderful how he 
slipped Diablo through the narrow aisles of thorns, saving 
the horse and saving himself. The others were tom and 
clutched and held and stung. The way was a flat, sandy 
pass between low mountain ranges. There were open 
spots and aisles and squares of sand; and hedging rows 
of prickly pear and the huge spider-legged ocatillo and 
hummocky masses of clustered bisnagi. The day grew 
dry and hot. A fragrant wind blew through the pass. 
Cactus flowers bloomed, red and yellow and magenta, 
The sweet, pale Ajo lily gleamed in shady corners. 


desert gold 


f err miles of travel covered the length of the pass It 
opened wrde upon a wonderful scene, an arborealfcert 
ominated by jts pure light green, yet lined by man’’ 
merging colors And it rose slowly to a W dL and 
lark-.ed zone of lava, spurred, peaked, domed by volcano 
^ 'vild and ragged region, illimitable as the horizon 
Tne Yaqui, if not at fault, was yet uncertain Sal’ 
con eyes searched and roved, and became fixed at length 
t the soutnwest, and toward this he turned his hofse 

onto flUted sa Z uaros < fifty, sixty feet high raised 

coiumnal forms, and their branching limbs and InrvW 
lines added a grace to the desert. It was the low-hncfc f 
cactus that made the toil and pain of travel. Yet these 
thorny forms were beautiful. 

the^t^of low be nV n ^ rfd ? eS ' t0 ri * ht left along 

fad»d vanished if I mra S e glistened ’ wavered 
mn^; J ? d ~ lalces * nd trees clouds. Inverted 
mountains hung suspended in the lilac sir a r,d t •7 
tracery of white-walled cities. ' d f * 

- ftld n T» - Yaqi,i halted the cav alcade. He had selected 
..field of Insnagt cactus for the place of rest. Presently 

rrc s 

S. faf *2 

needs. " fiercest groans minister to their 

’rails lay tetrad hlra -°nd tw"y S ° f , gray ‘ gree n s P ig «l 

t 


across cactus and lava 

and wreaths of heat smoked up from the sand. Me* 
cedes reeled in her saddle. Thome bade her drink, 
bathed her face, supported her, and then gave way to 
Ladd, who took the girl with him on Torres s broad back. 
Yaqui’s unflagging purpose and iron arm were bitter and 
hateful to the proud and haughty spirit of Blanco Diablo, 
For once Belding’s great white devil had met his master. 
He fought rider, bit, bridle, cactus, sand—and yet ne 
went on and on, zigzagging, turning^ winding, crashing 
through the barbed growths. The middle of the cuter- 
noon saw Thome reeling in his saddle, and then, wher¬ 
ever possible, Gale’s powerful arm lent him strength to 

hold his seat. . , . 

The giant cactus came to be only so in name 
saguaros were thinning out, growing stunted, and most ot 
them were single columns. Gradually other cacais forms 
showed a harder struggle for existence, and the spaces 
of sand between were wider. But now the drmded, 
glistening choya began to show pale and gray and white 
upon the rising slope. Round-topped hills, srniset- 
colored above, blue-black below, intervened to hide the 
distant spurs and peaks. Mile and mile tong ton S l ' e ^ 
red lava streamed out between the hilis and wound down 
to stop abruptly upon the slope* 

The fugitives were entering a desolate, burned-out 
world. It rose above them in limitless, gradual ascent 
and spread wide to east and west. Then the waste ot 
sand began to yield to cinders. The horses sank to their 

- 55-«w «• .a *» 

back from the leaders, and. men cougned and horses 
snorted The huge, round hills rose smooth, symmet 
SfSLd if seSti« S sun 

bm-black surfaces. But Lb. sun was now t*.und tte 
hills In between ran the streams of lava. Ihe hCsSc 
men skirted the edge between slope of ^ and perpenjc^ 
ular ragged wall. This red lava seemed to have flowed 
and hardened there only yesterday. It was broken- 
t8o 


desert gold 


sharp, .fall rust color, full of cracks and caves and crevices 

££%r “ p “ ite *““* grew ^ 

Again twilight encompassed the travelers. But there 
was still light enough for Gale to see the constricted 
passage open into a wide, deep space where the dull color 

% f? gTay of 8“^^ dwarfed mes- 
quite. Blanco Sol, keenest of scent, whistled his welcome 
herald oi water. The other horses answered, quickened 

Se'drfafa ^ ^ too > sweet - coo! - damp on 

.cZT 'fA C ° mer Cf a P° cket in th « ^va wall. 
The file of white horses rounded the comer after him. 
And Ga!e commg last, saw the pale, glancing gleam of a 

pool of water beautiful in the twilight 


wtf ** 7 A Yaqui ’ S reIentIess driving demand on the 
home, was no longer m evidence. He lost no time but 
hs dia not hasten. His course wound between low cinder 


rj: , a own to a black floor as hard as 

-unt with tongues of lava to the left, and to the right the 
slow descent into the cactus plain. Yaqui was now 

rSi^rt A™* 3 GaJe ’ S idea that the In dian 

was starting the nrst sharp-toothed slope of a vast vol¬ 
ume plateau which formed the western half of tte Sonora 
Desert and extended to the Gulf of California. Travel 
was slow, but not exhausting for rider or beast.' A little 
sand ana meager grass gave a grayish tinge to the strip 
ground between lava and plain. ^ 

That day, as the manner rather than the purpose of the 
Yaqui changed so there seemed to be subtle^erencS 
sn the others of the party. Gale himself lost a certain 

Mercedes S N^d tA* **“ f ° r Wmself ’ but ^ 
.vierceaes and Nell, and Thome and the ranker- t;™ 

fry fine ^Udflost h'A A ebeen Patrolling the boiLd- 

ary fine. Ladd lost his taciturnity and his gloom changed 


ACROSS CACTUS AND LAVA 

to a cool, careless air. A mood that was almost defiance 
began to be manifested in Thome, It was in Mercedes, 
however, that Gale marked the most significant change. 
Her collapse the preceding day might never have been. 
She was lame and sore; she rode her saddle siaewise, 
and often she had to be rested and helped; but she had 
found a reserve fund of strength, and her mental condi¬ 
tion was not the same that it had been. Her burden of 
fear had been lifted. Gale saw m her the difference he 
always felt in himself after a few days m the desert. 
Already Mercedes and he, and all of them, had begun o 
respond to the desert spirit. Moreover, Yaqui s strange 
influence must have been a call to the primitive. 

Thirty miles of easy stages brought the fugitives to 
another waterhole, a little round pocket under the 
heaved-up edge of lava. There was spare short bfeadied 
grass for the horses, but no wood tor a fire. This night 
there was question and reply, conjecture, doubt, opinion, 
and conviction expressed by the men of the party. But 
the Indian, who alone could have told where they were, 
where they were going, what chance they had to escape, 
maintained his stoical silence. Gate took the early 
watch, Ladd the midnight one, and Lash that ot the 

The day broke rosy, glorious, cold as ice. Action was 
necessary to make useful benumbed hands and feet, 
Mercedes was fed while yet wrapped in blankets. Then, 
while the packs were being put on and horses saddled, she 
walked up and down, slapping her hands, warming her 
ears. The rose color of the dawn was m her cheeks and 
the wonderful clearness of desert light m her eyes. Thorne s 
eyes sought her constantly. The rangers watched hen 
-The Yaqui bent his glance upon her only seldom, but 
when he did look it seemed that his grange, fixed, and 
inscrutable face was about to break into a smile. Y t 
that never happened. Gale himself was surprised to find 
- iw often his own glance found the slender, dark, beauti* 
191 


desert gold 


dert 3 d Pa 1t rd ; h W T< th, ' S be ? use ° f her beaut y ? he won. 
He thought not altogether. Mercedes was a 

woman. She represented something in life that m»n of 
all races tor thousands of years had loved to see and "own 
to revere and debase, to fight and die for. ’ 

It was a significant index to the day’s travel that Yaont 
should keep a blanket from the pack and tear it 

S'JTKSStiKfr 5 

th„ any otter’ Tfi? 

H ?«a3rs , 2K , ss,* tztJ 

Si te ten* SY'T , : -’" ar « tend it 

He looked no more in that direction. To keen hk f™*. 
hoM. to save his horse, cost, him all energy and atten&m 
The course was marked out for him in the trlcks of T' 
other horses. He had on hr n ' tracks of t ^ ie 

have been more difficult/ The disTnt-frft* n ° thil !f C ° Uld 

a lava bed was at once the 

mean^ the crudest, the most deceits land of "gr^uS 

Pikes. It w^oug^ye^l d[ppe?yl h ice d Tf-blrcTS 

T02 


ACROSS CACTUS AND LAVA 


a foot of level surface, that space would be one to break 
through under a horse's hoofs. It was seamed, lined, 
cracked, ridged, knotted iron. This lava bed resembled 
a tremendously magnified clinker. It had been a running 
sea of molten flint, boiling, bubbling, spouting, and it had 
burst its surface into a million sharp facets as it hardened. 
The color was dull, dark, angry red, like no other red, 
inflaming to the eye. The millions of minute crevices 
were dominated by deep fissures and holes, ragged and 
rough beyond all comparison. 

The fugitives made slow progress. They picked a 
cautious, winding way to and fro in little steps here and 
there along the many twists of the trail, up and down the 
unavoidable depressions, round and round the holes. At 
noon, so winding back upon itself had been their course, 
they appeared to have come only a short distance up the 
lava slope. 

It was rough work for them; it was terrible work for 
the horses. Bianco Diablo refused to answer to the power 
of the Yaqui. He balked, he plunged, he bit and kicked. 
He had to be pulled and beaten over many places. Mer¬ 
cedes’s horse almost threw her, and she was put upon 
Blanco Sol. The white charger snorted a protest, then, 
obedient to Gale’s stem call, patiently lowered his nPble 
head and pawed the lava for a footing that would hold. 

The lava caused Gale toil and worry and pain, but he 
hated the choyas. As the travel progressed this species 
of cactus increased in number of plants and in size. 
Everywhere the red lava was spotted with little round 
patches of glistening frosty white- And under every 
bunch of choya, along and in the trail, were the discarded 
joints, like little frosty pine cones covered with spines. 
It was utterly impossible always to be on the lookout for 
these, and when Gale stepped on. one, often as not the 
steel-like thorns pierced leather and flesh. Gale came al¬ 
most to believe what he had heard claimed by desert 
travelers—that the choya was alive and leaped at man 


DESERT GOLD 


beast. Certain it was when Gale passed one, if he did 
not put all attention to avoiding it, he was hooked through 
his chaps and held by barbed thorns. The pain was al¬ 
most unendurable. It was like no other. It, burned, 
stung, beat almost seemed to freeze. It made useless 
arm or leg. It made him bite Ills tongue to keen from 
crying out. It made the sweat roll off him. It made 
him sick. 

Moreover, bad as the chcya was for man, it was in¬ 
finitely worse for beast. A jagged stab from this poisoned 
cactus was the only thing Blanco Sol could not stand. 
Many times that day, before he earned Mercedes, he had 
wildly snorted, and then stood trembling while Gale 
picked broken thorns from the muscular legs. But after 
Mercedes had been put upon Sol Gale made sure no choya 
touched him. 

The aitemoon passed like the morning, in ceaseless 
winding and twisting and climbing along this abandoned 
trail. Gale saw many waterholes, mostly dry, some con¬ 
taining water, all of them catch-basins, full only after 
rainy season. Little ugly bunched bushes, that Gale 
scarcely recognized as mesquites., grew near these holes; 
also stunted greasewood and prickly pear. There was no 
grass, and the choya alone flourished in that hard soil. 

Darkness overtook the party as they unpacked beside 
a pool of water deep under an overhanging shelf of lava. 
It had been a hard day. The horses drank their fill, and 
tiien stood patiently with drooping heads. Hunger and 
thirst were appeased, and a warm fire cheered the weary 
and foot-sore fugitives. Yaqui said, “Sleep.” And so 
another night passed. 

Upon the following morning, ten miles or more up the 
slow-ascending lava slope. Gale’s attention was called 
from his somber search for the less rough places in the 
trail. 

“Dick, why does Yaqui look back?” asked Mercedes. 

194 


ACROSS CACTUS AND LAVA 


Gale was startled. 

“Does he?” 

“Every little while,” replied Mercedes. 

Gale was in the rear of all the other horses, so as to 
take, for Mercedes’s sake, the advantage of the broken 
trail. Yaqui was leading Diablo, winding around a break* 
His head was bent as he stepped slowly and unevenly upon 
the lava. Gale turned to look back, the first time in 
several days. The mighty hollow of the desert below 
seemed wide strip of red—wide strip of green—wide strip 
of gray—streaking to purple peaks. It was all too vast, 
too mighty to grasp any little details. He thought, of 
course, of Rojas in certain pursuit; but it seemed absurd 
to look for him. 

Yaqui led on, and Gale often glanced up from his task 
to watch the Indian. Presently he saw him stop, turn, 
and look back. Ladd did likewise, and then Jim and 
Thome. Gale found the desire irresistible. Thereafter 
he often rested Blanco Sol, and looked back the while. 
He had his field-glass, but did not choose to use it. 

“Rojas will follow,” said Mercedes. 

Gale regarded her in amaze. The tone of her voice had 
been indefinable. If there were fear then he failed to 
detect it. She was gazing back down the colored slope, 
and something about her, perhaps the steady, falcon gaze 
of her magnificent eyes, reminded him of Yaqui. 

Many times during the ensuing hour the Indian faced 
about, and always his followers did likewise. It was high 
noon, with the sun beating hot and the lava radiating heat, 
when Yaqui halted for a rest. The place selected was a 
ridge of lava, almost a promontory, considering its out¬ 
look. The horses bunched here and drooped their heads. 
The rangers were about to slip the packs and remove 
saddles when Yaqui restrained them. 

He fixed a changeless, gleaming gaze on the slow de¬ 
scent; but did not seem to look afar. 

Suddenly he uttered his strange cry—the one Gale con- 
195 


DESERT GOLD 

sidered involuntary, or else significant of some tribal 
trait or feeling. It was incomprehensible/ but no one 
could have doubted its potency. Yaqui pointed down 
the lava slope, pointed with finger and arm and neck and 
head—his whole body was instinct with direction. His 
whole being seemed to have been animated and then 
frozen. His posture could not have been misunderstood, 
yet his expression had not altered. Gale had never seen 
the Indian’s face change its hard, red-bronze calm. It 
was the color and the flintiness and the character of the 
lava at his feet. 

“Shore he sees somethin’,” said Ladd “But my eves 
are no good.” 

“I reckon I ain’t sure of mine,” replied Jim. “I’m 
bothered by a dim movin’ streak down there.” 

Thome gazed eagerly down as he stood beside Mer¬ 
cedes, who sat motionless facing the slope. Gale looked 
and looked till he hurt his eyes. Then he took his glass 
out of its case on Sol’s saddle. 

. There appeared to be nothing upon the lava but the 
innumerable dots of choya shining in the sun. Gale swept 
his glass slowly forward and back. Then into a nearer 
field of vision crept a long white-and-biack line of horses 
and men. Without a word he handed the glass to Ladd 
rhe ranger used it, muttering to himself. 

4 4 TheyTe .on the lava fifteen miles down in an air fine ” 
he said, presently. “Jim, shore they’re twice that an’ 
more accordin’ to the trail.” 

Jim had his look and replied: “I reckon we’re a dav an’ 
a night in the lead.” y 

<<^ S ^ ? burst out Thorne, with set jaw. 

Tf^home. i t ’s Rojas and a dozen men or more,” 
replied Gale, and he looked up at Mercedes. 

She was transformed. She might have been a medieval 
princess embodying all the Spanish power and passion of 
that tune breathing revenge, hate, unquenchable spirit 
M nre. I, her beauty had been wonderful in her help- 
iq6 


ACROSS CACTUS AND LAVA 


jess and appealing moments, now, when she looked back 
white-faced and flame-eyed, it was transcendant. 

Gale drew a long, deep breath. The mood which had 
presaged pursuit, strife, blood on this somber desert 9 
returned to him tenfold. He saw Thome’s face corded 
by black veins, and his teeth exposed like those of a 
snarling wolf. These rangers, who had coolly risked 
death many times, and had dealt it often, were white 
as no fear or pain could have made them. Then, on the 
moment, Yaqui raised his hand, not clenched or doubled 
tight, but curled rigid like an eagle’s claw; and he shook 
it in a strange, slow gesture which was menacing and 
terrible. 

It was the woman that called to the depths of these 
men. And their passion to kill and to save was sur¬ 
passed only by the wild hate which was yet love, the un¬ 
fathomable emotion of a peon slave. Gale marveled at 
it, while he felt his whole being cold and tense, as he 
turned once more to follow in the tracks of his leaders. 
The fight predicted by Belding was at hand. What a 
fight that must be! Rojas was traveling light and fast. 
He was gaining. He had bought his men with gold, with 
extravagant promises, perhaps vrith offers of the body 
and blood of an aristocrat hateful to their kind. Lastly, 
there was the wild, desolate environment, a tortured 
wilderness of jagged lava and poisoned choya, a lonely, 
fierce, and repeliant world, a red stage most somberiy and 
fittingly colored for a supreme struggle between men, 

Yaqui looked back no more. Mercedes looked back 
no more. But the others looked, and the time came when 
Gale saw the creeping line of pursuers with naked eyes. 

A level line above marked the rim of the plateau. Sand 
began to show in the little lava pits. On and upward 
toiled the cavalcade, still very slowly advancing. At last 
Yaqui reached the rim. He stood with his hand on 
Blanco Diablo; and both were silhouetted against the 
eky. That was the outlook for a Yaqui. And his great 
197 


DESERT GOLD 

k>rsa dazzlingly white in the sunlight, with head wildly 
and proudly erect, mane and tail flying in the wind, made 
a magnificent picture. The others toiled on and upward, 
and at last Gale led Blanco Sol over the rim. Then all 
looked down the red slope. 

But shadows were gathering there and no moving line 
sould be seen. 

Yaqui mounted and wheeled Diablo away. The others 
followed. Gale saw that the plateau was no more than 
a vast field of low, ragged circles, levels, mounds, cones, 
and whirls of lava The lava was of a darker red than 
that^down upon the slope, and it was harder than flint. 
In p/aces fine sand and cinders covered the uneven floor. 
Strange varieties of cactus vied with the omnipresent 
tlMya. Yaqui, however, found ground that his horse 
covered at a swift walk. 

But there was only an hour, perhaps, of this com¬ 
paratively easy going. Then the Yaqui led them into a 
sone of craters, The top of the earth seemed to have 
been blown out in holes from a few rods in width to large 
craters, some shallow, others deep, and all red as fire. 
Yaqui circled dose to abysses which yawned sheer from 
& level surface, and he appeared always to be turning 
upon his course to avoid them. 

The plateau had now a considerable dip to the west. 
Gale marked the slow heave and ripple of the ocean of 
lava to the south, where high, rounded peaks marked the 
center oi this volcanic region. The uneven nature of the 
slope westward prevented any extended view, until sud¬ 
denly the fugitives emerged from a rugged break to come 
upon a sublime and awe-inspiring spectacle. 

They were upon a high point of the western slope of 
the plateau. It was a slope, but so many leagues long in 
?ts descent that only from a great height could any slant 
have been perceptible. Yaqui and his white horse stood 
upon the brink of a crater miles in drcumference, a thou¬ 
sand feet deep,, with its red walls patched in frost-colored 
10S 


ACROSS CACTUS AND LAVA 

spots by the silvery choya. The giant tracery of lava 
streams waved down the slope to disappear in undulating 
sand dunes. And these bordered a seemingly endless 
arm of blue sea. This was the Gulf of California, Be¬ 
yond the Gulf rose dim, bold mountains, and above them 
hung the setting sun, dusky red, flooding all that barren 
empire with a sinister light. 

It was strange to Gale then, and perhaps to the others, 
to see their guide lead Diablo into a smooth and well-worn 
trail along the rim of the awful crater. Gale looked down 
into that red chasm. It resembled an inferno. The dark 
cliffs upon the opposite side were veiled in blue haze that 
seemed like smoke. Here Yaqui was at home. He 
moved and looked about him as a man coming at last 
into his own. Gale saw him stop and gaze out over that 
red-ribbed void to the Gulf. 

Gale divined that somewhere along this crater of hell 
the Yaqui would make his final stand; and one look into 
his strange, inscrutable eyes made imagination picture s 
fitting doom for the pursuing Rojas. 


14 


XII 


THE CRATER OF HELL 

r F'HE trail led along a gigantic fissure in the side of 

t, j 6 . ,° ra ! er ’ and then down and down into a red- 
walled, blue-hazed labyrinth. 

. P rese ntly Gale, upon turning a sharp corner, was ut¬ 
terly amazed to see that the split in the lava sloped out 
and widened into an arroyo. It was so green and soft 
and beautiful in all the angry, contorted red surrounding 
that Gale could scarcely credit his sight. Blanco Sol 
wmstied his welcome- to the scent of water. Then Gale 
saw a great hole, a pit in the shiny lava, a dark, cool, 
shady well. There was evidence of the fact that at flood 
seasons the water had an outlet into the arroyo. The soil 
appeared to be a fine sand, in which a reddish tinge pre¬ 
dominated; and it was abundantly covered with a long 
grass, still partly green. Mesquites and palo verdes 
dotted the arroyo and gradually closed in thickets that 
obstructed the view. 

‘ Shore it all beats me,” exclaimed Ladd. “What a 
place to hole-up in! We could have hid here for a long 
time^ Boys, I saw mountain sheep, the real old genu¬ 
ine Rocky Mountain bighorn. What do you think of 
that ? M 

„ f; cko f ;t ’ s , a Ya( l ui hunting-ground,” replied Lash. 

Tnat trail we hit must be hundreds of years old. It’s 
worn deep and smooth in the iron lava.” 

., T 6 ] 1 -’ a111 f °* t0 say is ~Beldin’ was shore right about 

. 6 India f ^ n . } ^ an see Rojas’s finish somewhere up 
along that awful hell-hole.” ^ 


200 


THE CRATER OF HELL 

Camp was made on a level spot. Yaqui took the horses 
to water, and then turned them loose in the arroyo. It 
was a tired and somber group that sat down to eat. The 
strain of suspense equaled the wearing effects of the long 
ride. Mercedes was calm, but her great dark eyes burned 
in her white face. Yaqui watched her. The others looked 
at her with unspoken pride. Presently Thome wrapped 
her in his blankets, and she seemed to fall asleep at once. 
Twilight deepened. The campfire blazed brighter. A 
cool wind played with Mercedes’s black hair, waving 
strands across her brow. 

Little of Yaqui’s purpose or plan could be elicited from 
him. But the look of him was enough to satisfy even 
Thome. He leaned against a pile of wood, which he had 
collected, and his gloomy gaze pierced the campfire, and 
at long intervals strayed over the motionless form of the 
Spanish girl. 

The rangers and Thome, however, talked in low tones. 
It was absolutely impossible for Rojas and his men to 
reach the waterhole before noon of the next day. And 
long before that time the fugitives would have decided 
on a plan of defense. What that defense would be, and 
where it would be made, were matters over which the men 
considered gravely. Ladd averred the I aqui would put 
them into an impregnable position, that at the same time 
would prove a death-trap for their pursuers. They ex¬ 
hausted every possibility, and then, tired as they were, 

still kept on talking. f> 

“What stuns me is that Rojas stuck to our t#ul, 
said Thorne, his lined and haggard face expressive of 
dark passion. “He has followed us into this fearful 
desert. He’ll lose men, horses, perhaps his life. He’s 
only a bandit, and he stands to win no gold. If he 
ever gets out of here it ’ll be by herculean labor and 
by terrible hardship. All for a poor little helpless 
woman—just a woman! My God, I can t understand 
it.’’ 




DESERT GOLD 

'"Shore—just a woman,” replied Ladd, solemnly nod¬ 
ding his head. 

Then there was a long silence during which the men 
gazed into the fire. Each, perhaps, had some vague con¬ 
ception of the enormity of Rojas’s love or hate—some 
faint and amazing glimpse of the gulf of human passion. 
Those were cold, hard, grim faces upon which the light 
flickered. 

‘‘Sleep,” said the Yaqui. 

Thome rolled in his blanket close beside Mercedes. 
Then one by one the rangers stretched out, feet to the 
fire. Gale found that he could not sleep. His eyes were 
weary, but they would not stay shut; his body ached for 
rest, yet he could not lie still. The night was so somber, 
so gloomy, and the lava-encompassed arroyo full of shad¬ 
ows. The dark velvet sky, fretted with white fire, seemed 
to be close. There was an absolute silence, as of death. 
Nothing moved—nothing outside of Gale’s body appeared 
to live. The Yaqui sat like an image carved out of lava. 
The others lay prone and quiet. Would another night 
see any of them lie that way, quiet forever? Gale felt a 
ripple pass over him that was at once a shudder and a 
contraction of muscles. Used as he was to the desert 
and its oppression, why should he feel to-night as if the 
weight of its lava and the burden of its mystery were 
bearing him down? 

He sat up after a while and again watched the- fire. 
Nell’s sweet face floated like a wraith in the pale smoke 
—glowed and flushed and smiled in the embers. Other 
faces shone there—his sister’s—that of his mother. Gale 
shook off the tender memories. This desolate wilderness 
with its forbidding silence and its dark promise of hell 
on the morrow—this was not the place to unnerve one¬ 
self with thoughts of love and home. But the torturing 
paradox of the thing was that this was just the place and 
just the night for a man to be haunted. 

By and by Gale rose and walked down a shadowy 

9.09 


THE CRATER OF HELL 


aisle between the mesquites. On his way back the Yaqui 
joined him. Gale was not surprised. He had become used 
to the Indian’s strange guardianship. But now, perhaps be ¬ 
cause of Gale’s poignancy of thought, the contending tides 
of love and regret, the deep, burning premonition of dead¬ 
ly strife, he was moved to keener scrutiny of the Yaqui. 
That, of course, was futile. The Indian was impenetra¬ 
ble, silent, strange. But suddenly, inexplicably, Gale felt 
Yaqui’s human quality. It was aloof, as was everything 
about this Indian: but it was there. This savage walked 
silently beside him, without glance or touch oi word. 
His thought was as inscrutable as if mind had never 
awakened in his race. Yet Gale was conscious of great¬ 
ness, and, somehow, he was reminded of the Indian’s 
story. His home had been desolated, his people carried 
off to slavery, his wife and children separated from him 
to die. What had life meant to the Yaqui? What had 
been in his heart? What was now in his mind? Gale 
could not answer these questions. But the difference be¬ 
tween himself and Yaqui, which he had vaguely felt as that 
between savage and civilized men, faded out of his mind 
forever. Yaqui might have considered he owed Gale a 
debt, and, with a Yaqui’s austere and noble fidelity to 
honor, he meant to pay it. Nevertheless, this was not the 
thing Gale found in the Indian’s silent presence. Accept¬ 
ing the desert with its subtle and inconceivable influence, 
Gale felt that the savage and the white man had been 
bound in a tie which was no less brotherly because it 
could not be comprehended. 

Toward dawn Gale managed to get some sleep. Then 
the morning broke with the sun hidden back of the up¬ 
lift of the plateau. The horses trooped up the arroyo and 
snorted for water. After a hurried breakfast the packs 
were hidden in holes in the lava. The saddles were 
left where they were, and the horses allowed to graze 
and wander at will. Canteens were filled, a small 
bag of food was packed, and blankets made into a bun* 
20% 


DESERT GOLD 

die. Then Yaqui faced the steep ascent of the lava 
slope. 

The trail he followed led up on the right side of the 
fissure, opposite to the one he had come down. It was a 
steep climb, and encumbered as the .men were they made 
but slow progress. Mercedes had to be lifted up smooth 
steps and across crevices. They passed places where the 
rims of the fissure were but a few yards apart. At length 
the rims widened out and the red, smoky crater yawned 
beneath. Yaqui left the trail and began clambering down 
over the rough and twisted convolutions of lava which 
formed the rim. Sometimes he hung sheer over the 
precipice. It was with extreme difficulty that the party 
followed him. Mercedes had to be held on narrow 7 , foot- 
wide ledges. The choya was there to hinder passage. 
Finally the Indian halted upon a narrow bench of flat, 
smooth lava, and his followers worked with exceeding 
care and effort down to his position. 

At the back of this bench, between bunches of choya, 
was a niche, a shallow cave with floor lined apparently 
with mold. Ladd said the place was a refuge which had 
been inhabited by mountain sheep for many years. Yaqui 
spread blankets inside, left the canteen and the sack of 
food, and with a gesture at once humble, yet that of a 
chief, he invited Mercedes to enter. A few more gestures 
and fewer words disclosed his plan. In this inaccessible 
nook Mercedes was to be hidden. The men were to go 
around upon the opposite rim, and block the trail leading 
down to the waterhole. 

Gale marked the nature of this eyrie. It was the wild¬ 
est and most rugged place he had ever stepped upon. 
Only a sheep could have climbed up the wall above or 
along the slanting shelf of lava beyond. Below glistened 
a whole bank of choya , frosty in the sunlight, and it 
overhung an apparently bottomless abyss. 

Ladd chose the smallest gun in the party and gave it 
to Mercedes. 


204 


THE CRATER OF HELL 


“Shore it’s best to go the limit on bein’ ready,” he said, 
simply. “The chances are you’ll never need it. But if 
you do—” 

He left off there, and his break was significant. Mer¬ 
cedes answered him with a fearless and indomitable flash 
of eyes. Thome was the only one who showed any shaken 
nerve. His leave-taking of his wife was affecting and 
hurried. Then he and the rangers carefully stepped in 
the tracks of the Yaqui. 

They climbed up to the level of the rim and went along 
the edge. When they reached the fissure and came 
upon its narrowest point, Yaqui showed in his actions 
that he meant to leap it. Ladd restrained the Indian. 
/They then continued along the rim till they reached sev¬ 
eral bridges of lava which crossed it. The fissure was deep 
in some parts, choked in others. Evidently the crater 
had no direct outlet into the arroyo below. Its bottom, 
however, must have been far beneath the level of the 
waterhole. 

After the fissure was crossed the trail was soon found. 
Here it ran back from the run. Yaqui waved his hand to 
the right, where along the corrugated slope of the crater 
there were holes and crevices and coverts for a hundred 
men. Yaqui strode on up the trail toward a higher point, 
where presently his dark figure stood motionless against 
the sky. The rangers and Thome selected a deep de¬ 
pression, out of which led several ruts deep enough foi 
cover. According to Ladd it was as good a place as any, 
perhaps not so hidden as others, but freer from the 
dreaded choya. Here the men laid down rifles and guns, 
and, removing their heavy cartridge belts, settled down 
to wait. 

Their location was close to the rim wall and probably 
five hundred yards from the opposite rim, which was now 
seen to be considerably below them. The glaring red cliff 
presented a deceitful and baffling appearance. It had a 
thousand ledges and holes in its surfaces, and one moment 
20 < 


DESERT GOLD 


it looked perpendicular and the next there seemed to be 
a long slant. Thome pointed out where he thought Mer¬ 
cedes was hidden; Ladd selected another place, and Lash 
still another. Gale searched for the bank of choya he 
had seen under the bench where Mercedes’s retreat lay, 
and when he found it the others disputed his opinion! 
Then Gale brought his field glass into requisition, proving 
that he was right. Once located and fixed in sight, the 
white patch of choya , the bench, and the sheep eyrie stood 
out from the other features of that rugged wall. But all 
the men were agreed that Yaqui had hidden Mercedes 
where only the eyes of a vulture could have found her. 

Jim Lash crawled into a little strip of shade and bided 
the time tranquilly. Ladd was restless and impatient and 
watchful, every little while rising to look up the far- 
reacliing slope, and then to the right, where Yaqui’s dark 
figure stood out from a high point of the rim. Thome 
grew silent, and seemed consumed by a slow, sullen rage. 
Gale was neither calm nor free of a gnawing suspense nor 
of a waiting wrath. But as best he could he put the pend¬ 
ing action out of mind. 

It came over liim all of a sudden that he had not grasped 
the stupendous nature of this desert setting. There was 
the measureless red slope, its lower ridges finally sinking 
into white sand dunes toward the blue sea. The cold, 
sparkling light, the white sun, the deep azure of sky, the 
feeling of boundless expanse all around him—these meant 
high altitude. Southward the barren red simply merged 
into distance. The field of craters rose in high, dark 
wheels toward the dominating peaks. When Gale’ with¬ 
drew his gaze from the magnitude of these spaces and 
heights the crater beneath him seemed dwarfed. Yet 
while he gazed it spread and deepened and multiplied its 
ragged lines. No, he could not grasp the meaning of size 
or distance here. There was too much to stun the sight. 
But the mood in which nature had created this convulsed 
world of lava seized hold upon him. 

206 V. 


THE CRATER OF HELL 


Meanwhile the hours passed. As the sun climbed the 
clear, steely lights vanished, the blue hazes deepened, and 
slowly the glistening surfaces of lava turned redder. Ladd 
was concerned to discover that Yaqui was missing from 
his outlook upon the high point. Jim Lash came out of 
the shady crevice, and stood up to buclde on his cartridge 
belt. His narrow, gray glance slowly roved from the 
height of lava down along the slope, paused in doubt, and 
then swept on to resurvey the whole vast eastern dip of 
the plateau. 

“I reckon my eyes are pore,” he said. “Mebbe it’s 
this damn red glare. Anyway, what’s them creepin’ 
spots up there?” 

“Shore I seen them. Mountain sheep,” replied Ladd. 

“Guess again, Laddy. Dick, I reckon you’d better 
flash the glass up the slope.” 

Gale adjusted the field glass and began to search the 
lava, beginning close at hand and working away from 
him. Presently the glass became stationary. 

“I see half a dozen small animals, brown in color. 
They look like sheep. But I couldn’t distinguish moun¬ 
tain sheep from antelope.” 

“Shore they’re bighorn,” said Laddy. 

“I reckon if you’ll puli around to the east an’ search 
under that long wall of lava—there—you’ll see what I 
see,” added Jim. 

The glass climbed and circled, wavered an instant, then 
fixed steady as a rock. There was a breathless silence. 

“ Fourteen horses—two packed—some mounted—others 
without riders, and lame,” said Gale, slowly. 

Yaqui appeared far up the trail, coming swiftly.. Pres¬ 
ently he saw the rangers and halted to wave his arms 
and point. Then he vanished as if the lava had opened 

beneath him. . 

“Lemme that glass,” suddenly said Jim Lash. Im 
seein’ red, I tell you. . . . Well, pore as my eyes are they 
had it right. Rojas an’ his outfit have left the trail.” 

» 207 


DESERT GOLD 

“Jfaa* you ain't meanin’ they've taken to that awful 
slope?" queried Ladd. 

“I sure do. There they are—still cornin', but goin’ 
down, too." 

“Mebbe Rojas is crazy, but it begins to look like he—" 

“Laddy, I'll be danged if the Greaser bunch hasn’t 
vamoosed. Gone out of sight! Right there not a half 
mile away, the whole caboodle—gone!" 

Shore they re behind a crust or have gone down into 
a rut," suggested Ladd. “They’ll show again in a 
minute. Look sharp, boys, for I’m figgerin’ Rojas Ml 
spread his men." 

Minutes passed, but nothing moved upon the slope. 
Each man crawled up to a vantage point along the crest 
of retting lava. The watchers were carefubto peer through 
little notches or from behind a spur, and the constricted 
nature of their hiding-place kept them close together. 
Ladd’s muttering grew into a growl, then lapsed into the 
silence that marked his companions. From time to time 
the rangers looked inquiringly at Gale. The held glass, 
however, like the naked sight, could not catch the slight¬ 
est moving object out there upon the lava. A long hour 
of slow, mounting suspense wore on. 

“Shore it’s all goin’ to be as queer as the Yaqui," said 
Ladd. 

Indeed, the strange mien, the silent action, the somber 
character of the Indian had not been without effect upon 
the minds of the men. Then the w r eird, desolate, tragic 
scene added to the vague sense of mystery. And now the 
disappearance of Rojas s band, the long wait in the 
silence, the boding certainty of invisible foes crawling" 
circling closer and closer, lent to the situation a final 
touch that made it unreal. 

I m reckonin there s a mind behind them Greasers," 
replied Jim. Or mebbe we ain’t done Rojas credit. 

If somethin’ would only come off!" 

That Lash, the coolest, most provokingly nonchalant 
208 


THE CRATER OF HELL 


of men in times of peril, should begin to show a nervous 
strain was all the more indicative of a subtle pervading 
unreality. 

“Boys, look sharp!” suddenly called Lash. “Low 
down to the left—mebbe three hundred yards. See., 
along by them seams of lava—behind the choyas. First 
off I thought it was a sheep. But it’s the Yaqui! . . , 
Crawlin’ swift as a lizard! Can’t you see him?” 

It was a full moment before Jim’s companions could 
locate the Indian. Flat as a snake Yaqui wound himself 
along with incredible rapidity. His advance was all the 
more remarkable for the fact that he appeared to pass di¬ 
rectly under the dreaded choyas. Sometimes he paused 
to lift his head and look. He was directly in line with a 
huge whorl of lava that rose higher than any point on the 
slope. This spur was a quarter of a mile from the posi¬ 
tion of the rangers. 

“Shore he’s headin’ for that high place,” said Ladd. 
“He’s goin’ slow now. There, he’s stopped behind some 
choyas. He’s gettin’ up—no, he’s kneelin’ Now what 

the hell!” „ 

“Laddy, take a peek at the side of that lava ndge, 
sharply called Jim. “I guess mebbe somethin’ ain’t 
cornin’ off. See! There’s Rojas an’ his outfit climbin’. 
Don’t make out no hosses. . . . Dick, use your glass an’ 
tell us what’s doin’. I’ll watch Yaqui an’ tell you what 
his move means,” 

Clearly and distinctly, almost as if he could have 
touched them, Gale had Rojas and his followers in sight. 
They were toiling up the rough lava on foot. They were 
heavily armed. Spurs, chaps, jackets, scarfs wem not 
in evidence. Gale saw the lean, swarthy faces, the black, 
straggly hair, the ragged, soiled garments which had once 

been white. . 

“They’re almost up now,” Gale was saying. There. 
They halt on top. I see Rojas. He looks wild. By v * ~l 
fellows, an Indian! . . . It’s a Papago. Beatings old 

20Q 


desert gold 

herder!. . . The Indian points—this way—then down. 
He s showing Rojas the lay of the trail.” 

•S 0 yS ’«X a ? Ui ’ S - in ran & e of that bunch,” said Jim 
swiffly. He s raisin’ his rifle slow—Lord, how slow he 

S'; T ;t, He ,\ CO m ered . S ° me one - Which one I can’t say. 
But I think hell pick Rojas.” y 

grimly 6 ^ Sh ° 0t ' Hel1 pick Ro i as *” added Gale, 

penS° jaS ~ yeS ~ yeS! ” Cri6d Th ° me ’ ” passion of sus ‘ 

“Not on your life!” Ladd’s voice cut in with scorn. 
Gentlemen, you can gamble Yaqui ’ll kill the Papago. 

tellin’Roja°s—’" dlan kn ° WS theSe sheep hatmts - He ’ s 
A sharp rifle shot rang out. 

“Laddy’s right,” called Gale. “The Pacaeo’s hit— 
his arm lalls— There, he tumbles!” " 

More shots rang out. Yaqui was seen standing erect 
M ra P ld] y at the darting Mexicans. For alf Gale 
could make out no second bullet took effect. Rojas and 
his men vanished behind the bulge of lava. Then Yaoui 

no eff r *V t y backed away from his position. He made 
no effort to run or hide. Evidently he watched cautiously 
for signs of pursuers in the ruts and behind the choyal 
Presently he turned and came straight toward the posi¬ 
tion of the rangers, sheered off perhaps a hundred paces 
below it, and disappeared in a crevice. Plainly his in 
tention was to draw pursuers within rifle shot 

off” slTd fidd y 0 “ A n’ d r y0Ur Wi f h ' Somethin ' come 
Yaoui? That P A P, } m sa y' n th ank God for the 
w q “ , ,T.hat Papago d have ruined us. Even so mebbe 

wTchSS',” 

Si S“r“ Th "”' " He “» i*l 

10 be * bie *» ~ *>» =»»,„. 


210 


THE CRATER OF HEEL 

“Listen, son,” he said, and his voice rang. “We-aH 
know how you feel. An’ if I’d had that one shot never 
in the world could I have picked the Papago guide. I’d 
have had to kill Rojas. That’s the white man of it. 
But Yaqui was right. Only an Indian could have done 
it. You can gamble the Papago alive meant slim chance 
for us. Because he’d led straight to where Mercedes is 
hidden, an’ then we’d have left cover to fight it out. . .. 
When you come to think of the Yaqui’s hate tor Greasers, 
when you just seen him pass up a shot at one—well, I 
don’t know how to say what I mean, but damn me, my 
som-brer-ro is off to the Indian I” 

“I reckon so, an’ I reckon the ball’s opened,” rejoined 
Lash, and now that former nervous impatience so un¬ 
natural to him was as if it had never been. He was smil- 
ingly cool, and his voice had almost a caressing note. He 
tapped the breech of his Winchester with a sinewy brown 
hand, and he did not appear to be addressing any one in 
particular. “Yaqui’s opened the ball. Look up your 
pardners there, gents, an’ get ready to dance.” 

Another wait set in then, and judging by.the more di¬ 
rect rays of the sun and a receding of the little shadows 
cast by the choyas , Gals was of the opinion that it was a 
long wait. But it seemed short. The four men were 
lying under the bank of a half circular hole in the lava. 
It was notched and cracked, and its rim was fringed by 
choyas. It sloped down and opened to an unobstructed 
view of the crater. Gale had the upper position, farthest 
to the right, and therefore was best shielded from possible 
fire from tho higher ridges of the rim, some three hun¬ 
dred yards distant. Jim came next, well hidden in a 
crack. The positions of Thome and Ladd were most 
exposed. They kept sharp lookout over the uneven ram¬ 
part of their hiding-place. 

The sun passed the zenith, began to slope westward, 
and to grow hotter as it sloped. The men waited and 
waited. Gale saw no impatience even in Thome. The 
211 


DESERT GOLD 

iSmtry air seemed to be laden with some burden or qual= 
Sty that was at once composed of heat, menace, color, 
and silence. Even the light glancing up from the lava 
seemed, red and the silence had substance. Sometimes 
Gale felt that it was unbearable. Yet he made no effort 
to break it. 

Suddenly this dead stillness was rent by a shot, clear 
and stinging, close at hand. It was from a rifle, not a 
carbine. With startling quickness a cry followed—a cry 
that pierced Gale—it was so thin, so high-keyed, so differ¬ 
ent from, all other cries. It was the involuntary human 
shriek at death. 

“Yaqui’s called out another pardner,” said Tim Lash 
laconically. 

Carbines began to crack. The reports were quick, 
hght, like sharp spats without any ring. Gale peered 
from behind the edge of his covert. Above the ragged 
wave of lava floated faint whitish clouds, all that was 
visible of smokeless powder. Then Gale made out round 
spots, dark against the background of red, and in front 
of them leaped out- small tongues of fire. Ladd’s .405 be¬ 
gan to ‘‘spang” with its beautiful sound of power. Thorne 
was firing, somewhat wildly Gale thought. Then Jim 
Lash pushed his Winchester over the rim under a choya , 
and between shots Gale could hear him singing: “Turn 
the lady, turn—turn the lady, turn! . . . Alaman left* 
Swing your pardners!. . . Forward an’ back! . Turn the 
lady turn!” Gale got into the fight himself, not so sure 
that he hit any of the round, bobbing objects he aimed at, 
but growing sure of himself as action liberated something 
roreed and congested within his breast. 

Then over the position of the rangers came a hail of 
steel bullets. Those that struck the lava hissed away 
into the crater; those that came biting through the choyas 
made a sound which resembled a sharp ripping of silk. 
Bits or cac|us stung Gale’s face, and he dreaded the flying 
thorns more than he did the flying bullets. 


THE CRATES. OF HELL 

“Hold on, boys,” called Ladd, as he crouched down to 
reload his rifle. “Save your shells. The Greasers are 
spreadin’ on us, some goin’ down below Yaqui, others 
movin’ up for that high ridge. When they get up there 
I’m damned if it won’t be hot for us. There ain’t room 
for all of us to hide here.” 

Ladd raised himself to peep over the rim. Shots were 
now scattering, and all appeared to come from below* 
Emboldened by this he rose higher. A shot from in front, 
a rip of bullet through the choya, a spat of something 
hitting Ladd’s face, a steel missile hissing onward—these 
inseparably blended sounds were all registered by Gale’s 
sensitive ear. 

With a curse Ladd tumbled down into the hole. His 
face showed a great gray blotch, and starting blood. Gale 
felt a sickening assurance of desperate injury to the 
ranger. He ran to him calling: “Laddy! Laddy J ” 

“ Shore I ain’t plugged. It’s a damn choya burr. The 
bullet knocked it in my face. Pull it out!” 

The oval, long-spiked cone was firmly imbedded in 
Ladd’s cheek. Blood streamed down his face and neck. 
Carefully, yet with no thought of pain to himself, Gale 
tried to pull the cactus joint away. It was as firm as if 
it had been nailed there. That was the damnable feature 
of the barbed thorns: once set, they held on as that 
strange plant held to its desert life. Ladd began to 
writhe, and sweat mingled with the blood on his face, 
He cursed and raved, and his movements made it almost 
impossible for Gale to do anything. 

“Put your knife-blade under an’ tear it out!” shouted 
Ladd, hoarsely. 

Thus ordered, Gale slipped a long blade in between the 
imbedded thorns, and with a powerful jerk literally tore 
the choya out of Ladd’s quivering flesh. Then, where 
the ranger’s face was not red and raw, it certainly was 
white. 

A volley of shots from a different angle was followed by 

2 IT 


DESERT GOLD 


the quick ring of steel bullets striking the lava all around 
Gale. His first idea, as he heard the projectiles sing and 
hum and whine away into the air, was that they were 
coming from above him. He looked up to see a number 
of low, white and dark knobs upon the high point of lava. 
They had not been there before. Then he saw little, pale, 
leaping tongues of fire. As he dodged down he distinctly, 
heard a bullet strike Ladd. At the same instant he 
seemed to hear Thome cry out and fall, and Lash’s boots 
scrape rapidly away. 

Ladd fell backward still holding the .405. Gale dragged 
him into the shelter of his own position, and dreading to 
look at him, took up the heavy weapon. It was with a 
kind of savage strength that he gripped the rifle; and it 
was with a cold and deadly intent that he aimed and 
fLed. The first Greaser huddled low, let his carbine go 
clattering down., and then crawled behind the rim. The 
second and third jerked back. The fourth seemed to 
flop up over the crest of lava. A dark arm reached for 
him, clutched his leg, tried to drag him up. It was in 
vain. Wildly grasping at the air the bandit fell, slid down 
a steep snelf, rolled over the rim, to go hurtling down out 
of sight. 

Fingering the hot rifle with close-pressed hands, Gale 
watched the sky line along the high point of lava. It 
remained unbroken. As his passion left him he feared 
to look back at his companions, and the cold chill re¬ 
turned to his breast. 

Shore I m damn glad them Greasers ain’t usin’ 
Soft-nose bullets,” drawled a calm voice. 

Swift as lightning Gale whirled. 

“Laddy! I thought you were done for,” cried Gale 
With a break in his voice. 

. .“I ain>t a-mindin’ the bullet much. But that choya 
joint took my nerve, an’ you can gamble on it. Dick 
this hole’s pretty high up, ain’t it?” 

The ranger’s blouse was open at the neck, and on his 

2Id 


THE CRATER OF HELL 


right shoulder under the collar bone was a small hols, 
just beginning to bleed. 

“Sure it’s high, Laddy,” replied Gale, gladly. “Went 
clear through, clean as a whistle!” 

He tore a handkerchief into two parts, made wads, 
and pressing them close over the wounds he bound them 
there with Ladd’s scarf. 

“Shore it’s funny how a bullet can floor a man an* 
then not do any damage,” said Ladd. “I felt a zip of 
wind an’ somethin’ like a pat on my chest an’ down I 
went. Well, so much for the small caliber with their 
steel bullets. Supposin’ I’d connected with a .405 1 ” 

“Laddy, I—I’m afraid Thome’s done for,” whispered 
Gale. “He’s lying over there in that crack. I can see 
part of him. He doesn’t move.” 

“I was wonderin’ if I’d have to tell you that. Dick, 
he went down hard hit, failin’, you know, limp an’ soggy. 
It was a moral cinch one of us would get it in this fight; 
but God! I’m sorry Thome had to be the man.” 

“Laddy, maybe he’s not dead,” replied Gale. He 
called aloud to his friend. There was no answer. 

Ladd got up, and, after peering keenly at the height 
of lava, he strode swiftly across the space. It was only 
a dozen steps to the crack in the lava where Thome had 
fallen in head first. Ladd bent over, went to his knees, 
so that Gale saw only his head. Then he appeared rising 
with arms round the cavalryman. He dragged him across 
the hole to the sheltered comer that alone afforded pro¬ 
tection. He had scarcely reached it when a carbine 
cracked and a bullet stmck the flinty lava, striking sparks, 
then singing away into the air. 

Thome was either dead or unconscious, and Gale, with 
a contracting throat and numb heart, decided for the 
former. Not so Ladd, who probed the bloody gash on 
Thome’s temple, and then felt his breast. 

“He’s alive an’ not bad hurt. That bullet hit him 
glancin’. Shore them steel bullets are some lucky for 
15 2I ^ 


DESERT GOLD 

ttS- Dick, you needn’t look so glum. I tell you he ain't 
bad hurt. I felt his skull with my finger. There’s no 
hole in it. Wash nim off an tie— Wow! did you get 
the wind of that one? An’ mebbe it didn’t sing off the 
lava! . . . Dick, look after Thome now while I—’* 

The completion of his speech was the stirring ring of 
the .405, and then he uttered a laugh that was unpleasant. 

Shore, Greaser, there s a man s size bullet for you. 
No slim, sharp-point, steel-jacket nail! I’m takin’ it on 
me to believe you’re appreciatin’ of the .405, seein’ as 
you don’t make no fuss.” 

It was indeed a joy to Gale to find that Thome had not 
received a wound necessarily fatal, though it was serious 
enough. Gale bathed and bound it, and laid the cavalry¬ 
man against the slant of the bank, his head high to lessen 
the probability of bleeding. 

As Gale straightened up Ladd muttered low and deep, 
and swung the heavy rifle around to the left. Far along 
the slope a figure moved. Ladd began tc work the lever 
of the Winchester and to shoot. At every shot the heavy 
firearm sprang up, and the recoil made Ladd’s shoulder 
give back.^ Gale saw the bullets strike the lava behind, 
beside, before the fleeing Mexican, sendifig up dull puffs 
of dust.. On the sixth shot he plunged down out of sight 
either hit or frightened into seeking cover. 

Dick, mebbe there s one or two left above; but we 
needn’t figger much on it,” said Ladd, as, loading the 
rifle, he jerked his fingers quickly from the hot breech. 

Listen: Jim an’ Yaqui are hittin’ it up lively down 
below. I’ll sneak down there. You stay here an’ keep 
about half an eye peeled up yonder, an’ keep the rest 
my way.” 

Ladd crossed the hole, climbed down into the deep 
crack where Thome had fallen, and then went stooping 
along with only his head above the level. Presently he 
disappeared. Gale, having little to fear from the high 
ridge, directed most of his attention toward the point 
216 


THE CRATER OF HELL 


beyond which Ladd had gone. The firing had become 
desultory, and the light carbine shots outnumbered the 
sharp rifle shots five to one. Gale made a note of the 
fact that for some little time he had not heard the un¬ 
mistakable report of Jim Lash’s automatic. Then en¬ 
sued a long interval in which the desert silence seemed to 
recover its grip. The .405 ripped it asunder—spang— 
spang—spang. Gale fancied he heard yells. There were 
a few pattering shots still farther down the trail. Gale 
had an uneasy conviction that Rojas anS some of his 
band might go straight to the waterhole. It would be 
hard to "dislodge even a few men from that retreat. 1 

There seemed a lull in the battle. Gale ventured to 
stand high, and screened behind choyas, he swept the 
three-quarter circle of lava with his glass. In the dis¬ 
tance he saw horses, but no riders. Below him, down the 
slope along the crater rim and the trail, the lava was bare 
of all except tufts of choya . Gale gathered assurance. 
It looked as if the day was favoring his side. Then 
Thome, coming partly to consciousness, engaged Gale’s 
care. The cavalryman stirred and moaned, called for 
water, and then for Mercedes. Gale held him back with 
a strong hand, and presently he was once more qtiiet. 

For the first time in hours, as it seemed, Gale took note 
of the po ysical aspect of his surroundings. He began to 
look upon them without keen gaze strained for crouching 
form, or bobbing head, or spouting carbine. Either 
Gale’s sense of color and proportion had become deranged 
during the fight, or the encompassing air and the desert 
had changed. Even the sun had changed.. It seemed 
lowering, oval in shape, magenta in hue, and it had a sur¬ 
face that gleamed like oil on water. Its red ra>s shone 
through red haze. Distances that had formerly been 
clearly outlined were now dim, obscured. The yawning 
chasm was not the same. It circled wider, redder, deeper. 
It was a weird, ghastly mouth of hell. Gale stood fas¬ 
cinated, unable to tell how much he saw/ was real, how 


DESERT GOLD 

much the exaggeration of overwrought emotions. There 
was no beauty here, but an unparalleled grandeur a 
sublime scene of devastation and desolation which might 
have had its counterpart upon the burned-out moon 
the mood that gripped Gale now added to its somber 
portent an unshakable foreboding of calamity. 

He wrestled with the spell as if it were a physical foe. 
Reason and intelligence had their voices in his min d- 
but tne moment was not one wherein these things could 
wholly control. He felt life strong within his breast, 
yet there, a step away, was death, yawning, glaring 
Wcy red It was a moment-an hour for a Savagfl 
born, bred, developed in this scarred and blasted place 
dep . ths . and red distances and silences never 
meant <x> be broken. Since Gale was not a savage he 
fought that call of the red gods which serif him back down 
the long ages toward his primitive day. His mind com- 
sense of sight and the hearing that seemed use¬ 
less. and his mind did not win all the victory. Something 
fatal was here, hanging in the balance, as the red has! 
himg along the vast walls of that crater of hril 

Jr;*?! harsh * P r . oIon 2ed yells brought him to his 
feet, and the unrealities vanished. Far down the trails 
where the crater nms closed in the deep fissure he saw 
moving forms. They were three in number. Two of 
..hem ran nimbly across the lava bridge. The third stag 
gered Tar behind. It was Ladd. He appeared hSd Mt 

2ise fh! Volf 5 Wy f r:fle ^ ich he se emed tmable to 
Sqiri. ^ ° m km - He was caU “S the 

Gale's heart stood still momentarily. Here, then was 
the catastrophe! He hardly dared sweep that fissure 

to fi-^at^Ladd T1 r i tW ° fleei ” S figUreS rioted—turned 
to h.e at Ladd. Gale recogmzed the foremost one-- 

J i0jas! , The band it’s arm was 

S fcn LT e W ! e S Z° k ? rOSe ’ and shots rap P ed 

Whea Laud went d °™ Rojas threw his gun aside 


THE CRATER OF HELL 


and 'with a wild yell bounded over the lava, His corn- 
panion followed. 

A tide of passion, first hot as fire, then cold as ice, 
rushed over Gale when he saw Rojas take the trail toward 
Mercedes’s hiding-place. The little bandit appeared 
to have the sure-footedness of a mountain sheep. The 
Mexican following was not so sure or fast He turned 
back. Gale heard the trenchant bark of the .405. Ladd 
was kneeling. He shot again—again. The retreating 
bandit seemed to run full into an invisible obstacle, then 
fell lax. inert, lifeless. Rojas sped on unmindful of the 
spurts of dust about him. Yaqui, high above Ladd, was 
also firing at the bandit. Then both rifles were emptied. 
Rojas turned at a high break in the trail. He shook a 
defiant hand, and his exulting yell pealed faintly to Gale's 
ears. About mm there was something desperate, mag¬ 
nificent. Then he clambered down the trail. 

Ladd dropped the .405, and rising, gun in hand, he 
staggered toward the bridge of lava. Before he had 
crossed it Yaqui came bounding down the slope, and 
in one splendid leap he cleared the fissure. He ran 
beyond the trail and disappeared on the lava above 0 
Rojas had not seen this sudden, darting move of the 
Indian. 

Gale felt himself bitterly powerless to aid in that 
suit. He could only watch. He wondered, fearfully, 
what had become of Lash. Presently, when Rojas came 
out of the cracks and ruts of lava there might be a chance 
of disabling him by a long shot. His progress was now 
slow. But he was making straight for Mercedes’s hiding- 
place. What was it leading him there—an eagle eye, or 
hate, or instinct? Why did he go on when there could 
be no turning back for him on that trail? Ladd was 
slow, heavy, staggering on the trail; but he was relent¬ 
less. Only death could stop the ranger now. Surely 
Rojas must have known that when he chose the trail. 
From time to time Gale caught glimpses of Yaqui’s dark 

2T«“' 


DESERT GOLD 

figure stealing along the higher rim of the crater. He 
was making for a point above the bandit. 

Moments—endless moments dragged by. The lower 

°i y the upper hJiof 

-ar eown the depths were murky blue. Again Gale felt 
the insupportable silence. The red haze befame ataS 
parent veil before his eyes. Sinister, evil, brooding 

S f err ! ed th . at y“g abyss. Ladd staggered 
along tne tran, at. times he crawled. The Yaqui gained- 
he might have had wings; he leaped from jagged crust 
thin" CrUSt ’ tlS sure -Redness was a wonderful 

But for Gale the marvel of that endless period of watch- 
mg was the purpose of the bandit Rojas. He h"d now 

510 T P T, S a!e ’ s « lass made this fact pkL There 
was death behind him, death below him, death before 

h-~m a He new r ^ W I ° 10VV ' n H ' death above 

fT He ne J. er Altered—never made a misstep upon 

ihe narrow flinty trail. When he reached the lower end 
of_ the level, ledge Gale’s poignant doubt became a cer- 
tarnty. Rojas had seen Mercedes. It was incredible 

fcv rit' e r . u ed St . Then ’ Ws heart c 'amped as S ^ 
icy vise, Gale threw lorward the Remington, and sinkin" 

on one knee, began to shoot. He emptied tteSSS 
Puffs ot dust near Rojas did not even make him turn. 

As Gale began to reload he was horror-stricken bv a 
ow cry from ihorne. The cavalryman had recovered 

hand^t^he" ^ WaS , h f f raised > Porting with shaking 
hand at the opposite ledge. His distended eves wi 

Sd nor^"- He "" ^ t0 Utter s P eech ^ 

forS: hop^— d hat!^d e rcedes S anfld^dcTen^herself 16 £ 

Bui "i 11 ”’ 3 d °. Ubted not at aI1 she woulTuse it 
her *’ mbeang her terror °f this savage, he feared for 

Rojas reached the level of the ledge. He halted. He 

220 


THE CRATER OF HELL 

crouched. It was the act of a panther. Manifestly he 
saw Mercedes within the cave. Then faint shots patted 
the air, broke in quick echo. Rojas went down as if 
struck a heavy blow. He was hit. But even as Gale 
yelled in sheer madness the bandit leaped erect. He 
seemed too quick, too supple to be badly wounded. A 
slight, dark figure flashed out of the cave. Mercedes! 
She backed against the wall. Gqje saw a puff of white— 
heard a report. But the bandit lunged at her. Mercedes 
ran, not to try to pass him, but straight for the precipice. 
Her intention was plain. But Rojas outstripped her, 
even as she reached the verge. # Then a piercing scream 
pealed across the crater—a scream of despair. 

Gale closed his eyes. He could not bear to see 
more. 

Thome echoed Mercedes’s scream. Gale looked round 
just in time to leap and catch the cavalryman as be stag¬ 
gered, apparently for the steep slope. And then, as Gale 
dragged him back, both fell. Gale saved his friend, but 
he plunged into a chcya. He drew his hands away full 
of the great glistening cones of thorns. 

“For God’s sake, Gale, shoot! Shoot! Kill her! 
Kill her! . . . Can’t—you—see—Rojas—” 

Thome fainted. 

Gale, stunned for the instant, stood with uplifted hands, 
and gazed from Thorne across the crater. Rojas had not 
killed Mercedes. Fie was overpowering her. His actions 
seemed slow, wearing, purposeful. Hers were violent. 
Like a trapped she-wolf, Mercedes was fighting. She 
tore, struggled, flung herself. 

Rojas’s intention was terribly plain. 

In agony now, both mental and physical, cold and sick 
and weak, Gale gripped his rifle and aimed at the strug¬ 
gling forms on the ledge. He pulled the trigger. The 
bullet struck up a cloud of red dust close to the struggling 
couple. Again Gale fired, hoping to hit Rojas, praying 
to kill Mercedes. The bullet struck high. A third— 
221 


desert gold 

“ me , tlle Remington spoke—in vain.' The 
rme fell from. Gale s racked hands. 

How horribly plain that fiend’s intention! Gale tried 
to dose his eyes, but could not. He prayed wildly for 
a sudden bhndness-to faint as Thome had'fainted. But 

W Hit t0 ^ SPOt eyes that P ierced ^ 

^Mercedes was growing weaker, seemed about to col- 

T J l ™ hash are you dead?” cried Gale. “Oh 

Laddy! . . „ Oh, Yaquil” 

^ f ° r ^ n literaK y feU down the wall be- 
hmd the ledge where Rojas fought the girl. It sank in 
a heap, then bounded erect. 

‘'Yaqui!” screamed Gale, and he waved his bleedino- 
hands till the blood bespattered his face. Then he choked 
Utterance became impossible. 

„ I 1 * 6 £? dian 'hent over Rojas and flung him against the 
wall. Mercedes, sinking back, lay still. When Rojas 

fhe l U d 1116 1?”* 8 u St ,°° d h 6 ^ 6611 him and escape from 
£ S’ JY S bat ^ d thG ° ther W ^ng the narrow! 

of ava ' -His manner was abject, stupefied 

Slowly he stepped backward. opened. 

. W . as ^ en that Gale caught the white gleam of a 
^ ac I u is hand. Rojas turned and ran He 
rounded a corner of wall where the footing was precarious 
^aqiu followed slowly. His figure was daric and menX 

PoL= e ^ m f h f ry ‘ When he Passed off the ledsfe 
J farther and farther along the wall He 

was clinging now to the lava, creeping inch bv inch 

%g£i*£S*$ t TOk th « <»&St 

camp over ; t. Evidently he went as far as possible and 
toelth. 6 n& a ” UnSCaIabIe wail ^ove! the abyss 

ow T i e Z P m a 1ft tbe WaS Kke a Sl ™ s had- 

. , .A ^ ^ eeme d so to the stricken Gale what 

tmut it have been to Rojas? He appeared to sink against 


THE CRATER OF HELL 


the wall. The Yaqui stole closer and closer. He was the 
savage now, and for him the moment must have been 
glorified. Gale saw him gaze up at the great circling walls 
of the crater, then down into the depths. Perhaps the 
red haze hanging above him, or the purple haze below, or 
the deep caverns in the lava, held for Yaqui spirits of the 
desert, his gods to whom he called. Perhaps he invoked 
shadows of his loved ones and his race, calling them in this 
moment of vengeance. 

Gale heard—or imagined he heard—that wild, strange 
Yaqui cry. 

Then the Indian stepped close to Rojas, and bent low, 
keeping out of reach. How slow were his motions! 
Would Yaqui never—never end it? . - . A wail drifted 
across the crater to Gale’s ears. 

Rojas fell backward and plunged sheer. The bank of 
white choyas caught him, held him upon their steel 
spikes. How long did the dazed Gale sit there w r atching 
Rojas wrestling and writhing in convulsive frenzy? The 
bandit now seemed mad to win the delayed death. 

When he broke free he was a white patched object no 
longer human, a bail of choya burrs, and he slipped off 
the bank to shoot down and down into the purple depths 
of the crater. 


0 


XIII 


CHANGES AT FORLORN RIVER 


T tfE first of March saw the federal occupation of the 
garrison at Casita. After a short, decisive engage¬ 
ment the rebels were dispersed into small bands and 
on ven eastward along the boundary line toward Nogales* 
It was the destiny of Forlorn Fiver, however, never 
to return to the slow, sleepy tenor of its former existence, 
fielding s predictions came true. That straggling line 
of home-seekers was but a forerunner of the real invasion 
of Altar Valley. Refugees from Mexico and from Casita 
spread the word that water and wood and grass and land 
were to oe had at Forlorn River; and as if by magic the 
white tents and red adobe houses sprang up to glisten in 
the sun. 


Beldmg was happier than he had been for a long time 
He believed that evil days for Forlorn River, along with 
tne apathy and lack of enterprise, were in the past. He 
hired a couple of trustworthy Mexicans to ride the bourn 
aary line, and he settled down to think of ranching and 
irrigation and mining projects. Every morning he ex- 
pected to receive some word from Sonoyta or Yuma 
telling him that Yaqui had guided his party safely across 
the desert. 


Belding was simple-minded, a man more inclined to 
action tnan reflection. When the complexities of life 
hemmed him m, he groped his way out, never quite under¬ 
sell. ung. His wife had always been a mystery to him. 
Nell was sunshine most of the time, but, like the sun- 
(iormnated desert, she was subject to strange changes. 

224 


CHANGES AT FORLORN RIVER 


wilful, stormy, sudden. It was enough for Belding now to 
find his wife in a lighter, happier mood, and to see Nell 
dreamily turning a ring round and round the third finger 
of her left hand and watching the west. Every day 
both mother and daughter appeared farther removed from 
the past darkly threatening days. Belding was hearty 
in his affections, but undemonstrative. If there was any 
sentiment in his make-up it had an outlet in liis memory 
of Blanco Diablo and a longing to see him. Often 
Belding stopped his work to gaze out over the desert 
toward the west. When he thought of his rangers and 
Thorne and Mercedes he certainly never forgot liis horse. 
He wondered if Diablo was running, walking, resting: if 
Yaqui was finding water and grass. 

In March, with the short desert winter over, the days 
began to grow warm. The noon hours were hot, and 
seemed to give promise of the white summer blase and 
blasting furnace wind soon to come, No word was re¬ 
ceived from the rangers. But this caused Belding no 
concern, and it seemed to him that liis women folk corn 
sidered no news good news. 

Among the many changes coming to pass in Forlorn 
River were the installing of post-office service and the 
building of a mescal drinking-house. Belding had worked 
hard for the post office, but he did not like the idea of a 
saloon for Forlorn River. Still, that was an inevitable 
evil. The Mexicans would have mescal, Belding had 
kept the Little border' hamlet free of an establishment for 
distillation of the fiery cactus drink A good many 
Americans drifted into Forlorn River—miners, cowboys, 
prospectors, outlaws, and ochers of nondescript character| - 
and these men, of course, made the saloon, which was also 
an inn, their headquarters. Belding, with Carter and 
other old residents, saw the need of a sheriff for Forlorn 
River. 

One morning early in this spring month, while Belding 
was on liis way from the house to the corrals, he saw Nel* 
225 


DESERT GOLD 

running Blanco Jose down the road at a gait that amazed 
mm. She end not take the turn of the road to come in 
by the gate. ,She put Jose at a four-foot wire fence and 
came clattering into the yard. 

“Nell must have another tantrum,” said Belding. 
She s long past due.” 5 

, Blanco Tosd, like the other white horses, was bi" of 
irame and heavy, and thunder'rolled from underpins 
great hoofs. Nell pulled him up, and as he pounded 

down hd t0 a halt in a d ° Ud ° f dUSt She SWUng H S htl y 

It did not take more than half an eye for Belding to see 
ihat she was furious. 

‘‘Nell,, what’s come off now?” asked Belding. 

I m not going to tell you,” she replied, and started 
away, leading Jose toward the corral. 


, uuubucu ijuu come oc. i 

you d better tell me.” 

t -ii ?«? _ ... 



guess 


44 What?’ 


Dad, I will, if you promise.” 

ww ?’> 


CHANGES AT FORLORN RIVER 


“ Not to mention it to mother, not to pack a gun down 
there, and never, never tell Dick/' 

Belding was silent. Seldom did he make promises readily. 

“Nell, sure something must have come off, for you to 
ask all that.” 

“If you don’t promise I'll never tell, that’s all,” she 
declared, firmly. 

Belding deliberated a little longer. He knew the girl, 

“Well, I promise not to tell mother," he said, presently; 
“and seeing you’re here safe and well* I guess I won’t 
go packing a gun down there, wherever that is. But 
I won’t promise to keep anything from Dick that perhaps 
he ought to know.” 

“Dad, what would Dick do if—if he were here and I 
were to tell him I’d —I’d been horribly insultedf” 

“ I guess that’d depend. Mostly, you know, Dick does 
what you want. But you couldn’t stop him—nobody 
could—if there was reason, a man’s reason, to get started. 
Remember what he did to Rojas f., c Nell, tell me what's 
happened.” 

Nell, regaining her composure, wiped her eyes and 
smoothed back her hair. 

“The other day, Wednesday,” she began, ”1 was com¬ 
ing home, and in front of that mescal drinking-place there 
was a crowd. It was a noisy crowd, I didn’t want ta 
walk out into the street or seem afraid,, But I had to da 
both. There were several young men, and if they weren’t 
drunk they certainly were rude. I never saw them 
before, but I think they must belong to the liming com¬ 
pany that was run out of Sonora by rebels, Mrs, Carter 
was telling me. Anyway, these young fellows were Amer¬ 
icans. They stretched themselves across the walk and 
smiled at me. I had to go out in the road, One oi 
them, the rudest, followed me. He was a big fellow, red¬ 
faced, with prominent eyes and a bold look. He came 
up beside me and spoke to me. I ran home. And as 1 
ran I heard his companions jeering. 

227 


DESERT GOLD 

“Well, to-day, just now, when I was riding up the valley 
road I came upon the same fellows. They had instru¬ 
ments and were surveying. Remembering Dick, 'And how 
he always wished for an instrument to help work out his 7 \ 
plan for irrigation, I was certainly surprised to see these 
strangers surveying—and surveying upon Laddy’s plot 
of land.. It was a sandy road there, and Josd happened to 
he walking. So I reined in and asked these engineers 
what tney were doing. The leader, who was that same 
bold fellow who had followed me, seemed much' pleased 
at being addressed. IJe^was swaggering—too friendly; 
not my idea of a gentleman at all. He said he was glad 
to tell me he was going to nm water all over Altar Valley. 
Daxk you can bet that made me wild. That was 
Dick s plan, his discovery, and here were surveyors on 
Laddy’s claim. 

“Then I told him that he was working on private land 
and he’d better get off. He seemed to forget his flirty 
proclivities in amazement. Then he looked cunning. I 
read his mind. It was news to him that all the land along 
the valley had been taken up. 

"He said something about not seeing any squatters on 
the land, and then he shut up tight on 'that score. 

Rut he began to be flirty again. He got hold of Jose’s 
bridle, and before I could catch my breath he said I was a 
peach, that he wanted to make a date with me, that his • 
name was Chase, that he owned a gold mine in Mexico. 

He said a lot more I didn’t gather, but when he called me 
Dearie ? I—well, I lost my temper. 

** * jerked on the bridle and told him to let go. He held 
on and rolled his eyes at me. I dare say he imagined he was 
a gentleman 10 be infatuated with. He seemed sure of 
conquest. One thing was certain, he didn’t know the 
least bit about horses. It scared me the way he got in 
front cf Jose 1 thanked my stars I wasn’t up on Blanco 
Diabio r Well, Dad, I’m a little ashamed now, but I was 
mad. I Slashed him across the face with my quirt. 


CHANGES AT FORLORN RIVER 


Jose jumped and knocked Mr. Chase into the sand. I 
didn’t, get the horse under control till I was out of sight 
of those surveyors, and then I let him run home.” 

“Nell, I guess you punished the fellow enough. Maybe 
he’s only a conceited softy. But I don’t like that sort of 
thing. It isn’t Western. I guess he won’t be so smart 
next time. Any fellow would remember being hit by 
Blanco Jose. If you’d been up on Diablo we’d have to 
bury Mr. Chase.” 

“Thank goodness I wasn’t! I’m sorry now, Dad. 
Perhaps the fellow was hurt. But what could I do? 
Let’s forget all about it, and I’ll be careful where I ride 
in the future. . . . Dad, what does it mean, this surveying 
around Forlorn River?” 

“I don’t know, Nell,” replied Belding, thoughtfully. 
“ It worries me. It looks good for Forlorn River, but bad 
for Dick’s plan to irrigate the valley. Lord, I’d hate to 
have some one forestall Dick on that!” 

“No, no, we won’t let anybody have Dick’s rights,” 
declared Nell. 

“Where have I been keeping myself not to know about 
these surveyors?” muttered Belding. “They must have 
just come.” 

“ Go see Mrs. Carter. She told me there were strangers 
in town, Americans, who had mining interests in Sonora, 
and were run out by Orozco. Find out what they’re 
doing, Dad.” 

Belding discovered that he was, indeed, the last man of 
consequence in Forlorn River to learn of the arrival of 
Ben Chase and son, mine owners and operators in Sonora. 
They, with a force of miners, had been besieged by rebels 
and finally driven off their property. This property was 
not destroyed, but held for ransom. And the Chases, 
pending developments, had packed outfits and struck for 
the border. Casita had been their objective point, but, 
for some reason which Belding did not learn, they had 
arrived instead at Forlorn River. It had taken Ben Chase 
229 


DESERT GOLD 


just one day to see the possibilities of Altar Valley, and in 
three days he had men at work. 

Belding returned home without going to see the Chases 
and their operations. He wanted to think over the situa¬ 
tion. Next morning he went out to the valley to see for 
himself. Mexicans were hastily erecting adobe houses 
upon Ladd’s one hundred and sixty acres, upon Dick 
Gale’s, upon Jim Lash’s and Thome’s. There were men 
staking the valley floor and the river bed. That was 
sufficient for Belding. He turned back toward town and 
headed for the camp of these intruders. 

In fact, the surroundings of Forlorn River, except on 
the river side, reminded Belding of the mushroom growth 
of a newly discovered mining camp. Tents were every¬ 
where; adobe shacks were in all stages of construction; 
rough clapboard houses were going up. The latest of 
this work was new and surprising to Belding, all because 
he was a busy man, with no chance to hear village gossip. 
When he was directed to the headquarters of the Chase 
Mining Company he went thither in slow-growing wrath. 

He came to a big tent with a huge canvas fly stretched 
in front, under which sat several men in their shirt sleeves. 
They were talking and smoking. 

“ M y name’s Belding. I want to see this Mr. Chase,” 
said Belding, gruffly. 

olow-witted as Belding was, and absorbed in his own 
feelings, he yet saw plainly that his advent was disturbing 
to these men. They looked alarmed, exchanged glances, 
and then quickly turned to him. One of them, a tall] 
^n§£>^d man with sharp face and shrewd eyes and white 
hair, got up and offered his hand. 

. “ 1>m Ch? >e, senior,” he said. “ My son Radford Chase 
is here somewnere. You re Belding, the line inspector, 

I take it? I meant to call on you.” 

He seemed a rough-and-ready, loud-spoken man, withal 
cordial enough. 

“Yes, I’m the inspector,”, replied Belding, ignoring the 
.230 


CHANGES AT FORLORN RIVER 

proffered hand, “and I’d like to know what in the hell you 
mean by taking up land claims—staked ground that be¬ 
longs to my rangers?” 

“Land claims?” slowly echoed Chase, studying his man. 
“We’re taking up only unclaimed land.” 

That’s a lie. You couldn’t miss the stakes.” 

“Well, Mr. Belding, as to that, I think my men did run 
across some staked ground. But we recognize only 
squatters. If your rangers think they’ve got property 
just because they drove a few stakes in the ground they’re 
much mistaken. A squatter has to build a house and live 
on his land so long, according to law, before he owns it.” 

This argument was unanswerable, and Belding knew it. 

“According to law!” exclaimed Belding. “Then you 
own up; you’ve jumped our claims.” 

“Mr. Belding, I’m a plain business man. I come 
along. I see a good opening. Nobody seems to have 
tenable grants. I stake out claims, locate squatters, 
start to build. It seems to me your rangers have over¬ 
looked certain precautions. That’s unfortunate for them. 
I’m prepared to hold my claim and to back all the squat¬ 
ters who work for me. If you don’t like it you can carry 
the matter to Tucson. The law will uphold me. ’ ’ 

“The law? Say, on this southwest border we haven’t 
any law except a man’s word and a gun.” 

“Then you’ll find United States law has come along 
with Ben Chase,” replied the other, snapping his fingers. 
He was still smooth, outspoken, but his mask had fallen. 

“You’re not a Westerner?” queried Belding. 

“No, I’m from Illinois.” 

“I thought the West hadn’t bred you. I know your 
kind. You’d last a long time on the Texas border; now, 
wouldn’t you? You’re one of the land and water hogs 
that has come to root in the West. You’re like the timber 
sharks—take it all and leave none for those who follow. 
Mr. Chase, the West would fare better and last longer if 
men like you were driven out.” 

' 16 231 


DESERT GOLD 


“You can’t drive me out.” 

“I’m not so sure of that. Wait till my rangers come 
back. I wouldn’t be in your boots. Don’t mistake me. 
I don’t suppose you could be accused of stealing another 
man’s ideas or plan, but sure you’ve stolen these four 
claims. Maybe the law might uphold you. But the 
spirit, not the letter, counts with us bordermen.” 

“See here, Belding, I think you’re taking the wrong 
view of the matter. I’m going to develop this valley. 
You’d do better to get in with me. I’ve a proposition to 
make you about that strip of land of yours facing the 
river.” 

“You can’t make any deals with me. I won’t have 
anything to do with you.” 

Belding abruptly left the camp and went home. Nell 
met him, probably intended to question him, but one look 
into his face confirmed her fears. She silently turned 
away. Belding realized he was powerless to stop Chase, 
and he was sick with disappointment for the ruin of 
Dick's hopes and his own. 


XIV 


A LOST SON 

T IME passed. The population of Forlorn River grew 
apace. Belding, who had once been the head of 
the community, found himself a person of little conse¬ 
quence. Even had he desired it he would not have had 
any voice in the selection of postmaster, sheriff, and a 
few other officials. The Chases divided their labors be¬ 
tween Forlorn River and their Mexican gold mine, which 
had been restored to them. The desert trips between 
these two places were taken in automobiles. A month’s 
time made the motor cars almost as familiar a sight in 
Forlorn River as they had been in Casita before the 
revolution. 

Belding was not so busy as he had been formerly. As 
he lost ambition he began to find less work to do. His 
wrath at the usurping Chases increased as he slowly 
realized his powerlessness to cope with such men. They 
were promoters, men of big interests and wide influence 
in the Southwest. The more they did for Forlorn River 
the less reason there seemed to be for his own grievance. 
He had to admit that it was personal; that he and Gale 
and the rangers would never have been able to develop 
the resources of the valley as these men were doing it. 

All day long he heard the heavy booming blasts and the 
rumble of avalanches up in the gorge. Chase s men were 
dynamiting the cliffs in the narrow box canon. They 
were making the dam just as Gale had planned to make it. 
When this work of blasting was over Belding experienced 
a relief. He would not now be continually reminded of 
233 


DESERT GOLD 


his and Gale’s loss. Resignation finally came to him. 
But he oould not reconcile himself to misfortune for Gale,* 

Moreover, Belding had other worry and strain. April 
arrived with no news of the rangers. From Casita came 
vague reports of raiders in the Sonoyta country—reports 
impossible to verify until his Mexican rangers returned. 
When these men rode in, one of them, Gonzales, an in¬ 
telligent and reliable halfbreed, said he had met prospectors 
at the oasis. They had just come in on the Camino del 
Diablo, reported a terrible trip of heat and drought, and 
not a trace of the Yaqui’s party. 

“That settles it,” declared Belding. “Yaqui never 
went to Sonoyta. He’s circled round to the Devil’s Road 
and the rangers, Mercedes, Thome, the horses—they— 
I’m afraid they have been lost in the desert. It’s an old 
story on Camino del Diablo. 

He . had to tell Nell that, and it was an ordeal which 
left him weak. 


Mrs. Belding listened to him, and was silent for a long 
time while she held the stricken Nell to her breast. Then 
she opposed his convictions with that quiet strength so 
characteristic of her arguments. 

“Well, then,” decided Belding, “ Rojas headed the rang- 
ers at Papago Well or the Tanks.” 


. i Tom > when y°u are down in the mouth you use poor 
judgment,” she went on. “You know onlv by a miracle 
could Rojas or anybody have headed those white horses 
Where s your old stubborn confidence ? Yaqui was up on 
Diablo. Dick was up on Sol. And there were the other ' 
horses. They could not have been headed or caught 
Miracles don’t happen.” ** ‘ 

All right, mother, it’s sure good to hear you,” said 
Belding. Sne always cheered him, and now he grasped at 
straws. T m not myself these days, don’t mistake that. 
Tell us what you think. You always say you feel things 
when you really don’t know them.” 

I can say little more than what you said yourself the 


234 


A LOST SON 


night Mercedes was taken away. You told Laddv to 
trust Yaqui, that he was a godsend. He might go south 
into some wild Sonora valley. He might lead Rojas into 
a trap. He would find water and grass where no Mexican 
or American could/’ 

“ But mother, they’re gone seven weeks. Seven weeks! 
At the most I gave them six weeks. Seven weeks in the 
desert!” 

“How do the Yaquis live?” she asked. 

Belding could not reply to that, but hope revived in 
him. He had faith in his wife, though he could not in the 
least understand what he imagined was something mystic 
in her. 

“Years ago when I was searching for my father I learned 
many things about this country,” said Mrs. Belding. 
“You can never tell how long a man may live in the desert. 
The fiercest, most terrible and inaccessible places often 
have their hidden oasis. In his later years my father be¬ 
came a prospector. That was strange to me, for he never 
cared for gold cr money. I learned that he was often 
gone in the desert for weeks, once for months. Then the 
time came when he never came back. That was years 
before I reached the southwest border and heard of him. 
Even then I did not for long give up hope of hiS coming 
back. I know now—something tells me—indeed, it seems 
his spirit tells me—he was lost. But I don’t have that 
feeling for Yaqui and his party. Yaqui has given Rojas 
the slip or has ambushed him in some trap. Probably 
that took time and a long journey into Sonora. The 
Indian is too wise to start back now over dry trails. 
He’ll curb the rangers; he’ll wait. I seem to know this, 
dear Nell, so be brave, patient. Dick Gale will come back 
to you.” 

“ Oh, mother!” cried Nell. “ I can’t give up hope while 
I have you.” 

That talk with the strong mother worked a change in 
Nell and in Belding, Nell, who had done little but brood 
235 


DESERT GOLD 


and watch the west and take violent rides, seemed to 
settle into a waiting patience that was sad, yet serene. 
She helped her mother more than ever; she was a comfort 
to Belding; she began to take active interest in the affairs 
of the growing village. Belding, who had been breaking 
under the strain of worry, recovered himself so that to 
outward appearance he was his old self. He alone knew, 
however, that his humor was forced, and that the slow 
burning wrath he felt for the Chases was flaming into hate. 

Belding argued with himself that if Ben Chase and his 
son, Radford, had turned out to be big men in other ways 
than in the power to carry on great enterprises he might 
have become reconciled to them. But the father was 
greedy, grasping, hard, cold; the son added to those traits 
an overbearing disposition to rule, and he showed a fond¬ 
ness for drink and cards. These men were developing 
tne valley, to be sure, and a horde of poor Mexicans and 
many Americans were benefiting from that development; 
nevex cheless, these Chases were operating in a way which 
proved they cared only for themselves. 

Belding shook ofi a lethargic spell and decided he had 
better set about several by no means small tasks, if he 
wanted to get them finished before the hot months. He 
made a trip to the Sonoyta Oasis. He satisfied himself 
that matters along the line were favorable, and that 
there was absolutely no trace of his rangers. Upon 
completing this trip he went to Casita with a number of 
his white thoroughbreds and .shipped them to ranchers 
and horse-breeders in Pexas. Then, being near the rail¬ 
road, and having time, he went up to Tucson. There he 
learned some interesting particulars about the Chases. 
They had an office in the city; influential friends in the 
Capitol. They were powerful men in the rapidly growing 
finance of . the West. They had interested the Southern 
Pacific Railroad, and in the near future a branch line was 
to be constructed from San Felipe to Forlorn River. 
These details of the Chase dcvelonment were insignificant 
236 


A LOST SON 


when compared to a matter striking close home to Belding. 
His responsibility had been subtly attacked. A doubt 
had been cast upon his capability of executing the duties 
of immigration inspector to the best advantage of the 
state. Belding divined that this was only an entering 
wedge. The Chases were bent upon driving him out of 
Forlorn River; but, perhaps to serve better their own ends, 
they were proceeding at leisure. Belding returned home 
consumed by rage. But he controlled it. For the first 
time in his life he was afraid of himself. He had his wife 
and Nell to think of; and the old law of the West had gone 
forever. 

“ Dad, there’s another Rojas round these diggings,” was 
Nell’s remark, after the greetings were over and the 
usual questions and answers passed. 

Belding’s exclamation was cut short by Nell’s laugh. 
She was serious with a kind of amused contempt. 

“Mr. Radford Chase!” 

“Now Nell, what the—” roared Belding. 

“Hush, Dad! Don’t swear,” interrupted Nell* “I 
only meant to tease you.” 

“Humph! Say, my girl, that name Chase makes me 
see red. If you must tease me hit on some other way. 
Sabe, senorita?” 

“St, s*\ Dad.” 

“Nell, you may as well tell him and have it over,” said 
Mrs. Belding, quietly. 

“You promised me once, Dad, that you’d not go pack¬ 
ing a gun oft down there, didn’t you?” 

“Yes, I remember,” replied Belding; but he did not 
answer her smile. 

“Will you promise again?” she asked, lightly. Here 
was Nell with arch eyes, yet not the old arch eyes, so full 
icaf fun and mischief. Her lips were tremulous; her cheeks 
stemed less round. 

“Yes,” rejoined Belding; and he knew why Ills voice 
was a little thick. 


237 


DESERT GOLD 


“Wdl, if you weren’t such a good old blind Dad you*d 
have seen long ago the way Mr. Radford Chase ran round 
after me. At first it was only annoying, and I did not 
want to add to your worries. But these two weeks you’ve 
been gone I’ve been more than annoyed. After that 
time I struck Mr. Chase with my quirt he made all possible 
efforts to meet me. He did meet me wherever I went. 
He sent me letters till I got tired of sending them back. 

“When you left home on your trips I don’t know that 
he grew bolder, but he had more opportunity. I couldn’t 
stay in the house all the time. There were mama’s errands 
and sick people and my Sunday school, and what not* 
Mr. Chase waylaid me every time I went out. If he works 
any more I don’t know when, unless it’s when I’m asleep. 
He followed me until it was less embarrassing for me 
to let him walk with me and talk his head off. He made 
love to me. He begged me to marry him. I told him 
I was already in love and engaged to be married. He 
said that didn’t make any difference. Then I called him a 
fool. 

Next time he saw me he said he must explain. He 
meant I was being true to a man who, everybody on the 
border knew, had been lost in the desert. That—that 
hurt. Maybe maybe it’s true. Sometimes it seems 
terribly true. Since then, of course, I have stayed in the 
house to avoid being hurt again. 

“But, Dad, a little thing like a girl sticking close to her 
mother and her room doesn’t stop Mr. Chase. I think 
he’s crazy.. Anyway, he’s a most persistent fool. I want 
to be charitable, because the man swears he loves me, 
and^ maybe he does, but he is making me nervous. I 
don’t sleep. I’m afraid to be in my room at night. I’ve 
gone to mother’s room. He’s always hanging round. 
Bold! Why, that isn’t the thing to call Mr. Chase. He’s 
absolutely without a sense of decency. He bribes our 
servants. He comes into our patio. Think of that* 
He makes the most ridiculous excuses, He bothers m ot-bet 
238 


A LOST SON 


to death. I feel like a poor little rabbit holed by a hound 
And I daren’t oeep out.” 

Somehow the thing struck Belding as funny, and he 
laughed. He had not had a laugh for so long that it made 
him feelgood. He stopped only at sight of Nell's sur¬ 
prise and pain. Then he put his arms round her. 

“Never mind, dear. I’m an old bear. But it tickled 
me, I guess. I sure hope Mr. Radford Chase has got it 
bad. . . . Nell, it’s only the old story. The fellows fall in 
love with you. It’s your good looks, Nell. What a 
price women like you and Mercedes have to pay for 
beauty! I’d a d— a good deal rather be ugly as a mud 
fence.” 

“So would I, Dad, if—if Dick would still love me.” 

“He wouldn’t, you can gamble on that, as Laddy says. 

,.. Well, the first time I catch this locoed Romeo sneaking 
round here I’ll—I’ll—” 

“Dad, you promised.” 

“Confound it, Nell, I promised not to pack a gun. 
That’s all. I’ll only shoo this fellow off the place, gently, 
mind you, gently. I’ll leave the rest for Dick Gale!” 

“Oh y Dadl" cried Nell; and she clung to him wistful, 
frightened, yet something more. 

“Don’t mistake me, Nell. You have your own way, 
generally. You pull the wool over mother’s eyes, and you 
wind me round your little finger. But you can’t do either 
with Dick Gale. You’re tender-hearted; you overlook 
the doings of this hound, Chase. But when Dick comes 
back, you just make up your mind to a little hell in the 
Chase camp. Oh, he’ll find it out. And I sure want to be 
round when Dick hands Mr. Radford the same as he 
handed Rojas!” 

Belding kept a sharp lookout for young Chase, and then, 
a few days later, learned that both son and father had gone 
off upon one of their frequent trips to Casa Grandes, near 
where their mines were situated. 

April grew apace, and soon gave way to May. On© 

2 3,0 


DESERT GOLD 


morning Belding was called from some warden work by 
the whirring of an automobile and a “ Holloa!” He went 
forward to the front yard and there saw a car he thought 
resembled one he had seen in Casita. It contained a 
familiar-looking driver, but the three figures in gray coats 
and veils were strange to him. By the time he had gotten 
to the road he decided two were women and the other a 
man. At the moment their faces were emerging from 
dusty veils. Belding saw an elderly, sallow-faced, rather 
frail-appearing man who was an entire stranger to him; 
a handsome dark-eyed woman whose hair showed white 
through her veil; and a superbly built girl, whose face 
made Belding at once think of Dick Gale. 

“Is this Mr. Tom Belding, inspector of immigration ?” 
inquired the gentleman, courteously. 

“ I’m Belding, and I know who you are,” replied Belding 
in hearty amaze, as he stretched forth his big hand. 
“You’re Dick Gale’s Dad—the Governor, Dick used to 
say. I’m sure glad to meet you.” 

“Thank you. Yes, I’m Dick’s governor, and here, Mr. 
Belding— Dick’s mother and his sister Elsie.” 

Beaming his pleasure, Belding shook hands with the 
ladies, who showed their agitation clearly. 

“Mr. Belding, I’ve come west to look up my lost son,” 
said Mr. Gale. “His sister’s letters were unanswered. 
We haven’t heard from him in months. Is he still here 
with you?” 

“Well, now, sure I’m awful sorry,” began Belding, his 
slow mind at work. “Dick’s away just now—been away 
for a considerable spell. I’m expecting him back any 
day. ... . Won’t you come in? You’re all dusty and hot 
and tired. Come in, and let mother and Nell make you 
comfortable. Oi course you’ll stay. We’ve a big house. 
You must stay till Dick comes back. Maybe that ’ll 

be— Aw, I guess it won’t be long-Let me handle the 

baggage, Mr. Gale. . . . Come in. I sure am glad to meet 
von all.” 


240 



A LOST SON 


Eager, excited, delighted, Belding went on talking as he 
ushered the Gales into the sitting-room, presenting them 
in his hearty way to the astounded Mrs. Belding and Nell. 
For the space of a few moments his wife and daughter were 
bewildered. Belding did not recollect any other occasion 
when a few callers had thrown them off their balance. 
But of course this was different. He was a. little flustered 
himself—a circumstance that dawned upon him with sur¬ 
prise. When the Gales had been shown to rooms, Mrs. 
Belding gained the poise momentarily lost; but Nell came 
rushing back, wilder than a deer, in a state of excitement 
strange even for her. 

“Oh! Dick’s mother, his sister!” whispered Nell. 

Belding observed the omission of the father in Nell’s 
exclamation of mingled delight and alarm. 

“His mother!” went on Nell. “Oh, I knew it! I 
always guessed it! Dick’s people are proud, rich; they’re 
somebody. I thought I’d faint when she looked at me. 
She was just curious—curious, but so cold and proud. 
She was wondering about me. Dick has never written 
her that he’s—he’s engaged to me. I’m wearing his ring. 
It was his mother’s, he said. I won’t—I can’t take it off. 
And I’m scared. . . . But the sister—oh, she’s lovely and 
sweet—proud, too. I felt warm all over when she looked 
at me. I—I wanted to kiss her. She looks like Dick 
when he first came to us. But he’s changed. They’ll 
hardly recognize him. ... To think they’ve come! And 
I had to be looking a fright, when of all times on earth 
I’d want to look my best.” 

Nell, out of breath, ran away evidently to make herself 
presentable, according to her idea of the exigency of the 
case. Belding caught a glimpse of his wife’s face as she 
went out, and it wore a sad, strange, anxious expression. 
Then Belding sat alone, pondering the contracting emo¬ 
tions of his wife and daughter. It was beyond his under¬ 
standing. Women were creatures of feeling. Belding 
saw reason to be delighted to entertain Dick’s family; and 

2d i 


DESERT GOLD 

Cor the time being no disturbing' thought entered his 
mind. 

Presently the Gales came back into the sitting-room, 
looking very different without the long gray cloaks and 
veils. Belding saw distinction and elegance. Mr. Gale 
seemed a grave, troubled, kindly person, ill in body and 
mind. Belding received the same impression of power 
that Ben Chase had given him, only here it was minus 
any harshness or hard quality. He gathered that Mr. 
Gale was a man of authority. Mrs. Gale rather frightened 
Belding, but he could not have told why. The girl was 
just like Dick as he used to be. 

Their manner of speaking also reminded Belding of Dick. 
They talked of the ride from Ash Fork down to the border, 
of the ugly and tom-up Casita, of the heat and dust and 
cactus along the trail. Presently Nell came in, now cool 
and sweet in white, with a red rose at her breast. Belding 
had never been so proud of her. He saw that she meant 
to appear well in the eyes of Dick’s people, and began to 
have a faint perception of what the ordeal was for her. 
Belding imagined the sooner the Gales were told that Dick 
was to marry Nell the better for all concerned, and es¬ 
pecially for Nell. In the general conversation that ensued 
he sought for an opening in which to tell this important 
news, but he was kept so busy answering questions about 
his position on the border, the kind of place Forlorn River 
was, the reason for so many tents, etc., that he was unable 
to find opportunity. 

“ It>s interesting, very interesting,” said Mr, Gale. 
-At another time I want to learn all you’ll tell me about 
the West. It’s new to me. I’m surprised, amazed, sir, 

I may say.... But, Mr. Belding, what I want to know most 
is about my son. I’m broken in health. I’ve worried 
myself ill over him. I don’t mind telling you, sir that 
we quarreled. I laughed at his threats. He went away. 
And I ve come to see I didn’t know Richard. I was wrong 
to upbraid him. For a year we’ve known nothing of his 
242 


A LOST SON 


doings, and now for almost six months we’ve not heard 
from him at all. Frankly, Mr. Belding, I weakened 
first, and I’ve come to hunt him up. My fear is that 1 
didn’t start soon enough. The boy will have a great 
position someday—God knows,perhaps soon! I should 
not have allowed him to run over this wild country for so 
long. But I hoped, though I hardly believed, that he 
might find himself. Now I’m afraid he’s—” 

Mr. Gale paused, and the white hand he raised ex¬ 
pressively shook a little. 

Belding was not so thick-witted where men were con¬ 
cerned. He saw how the matter lay between Dick Gale 
and his father. 

“Well, Mr. Gale, sure m<j>st young bucks from the East 
go to the bad out here,” he said, bluntly. 

“I’ve been told that,” replied Mr. Gale; and a shade 
overspread his worn face. 

“They blow their money, then go to punching cows, 
take to whisky.” 

“Yes,” rejoined Mr. Gale, feebly nodding. 

“Then they get to gambling, lose their jobs,” went on 
Belding. 

Mr. Gale lifted haggard eyes. 

“Then it’s bumming around, regular tramps, and to 
the bad generally.” Belding spread wide his big arms, 
and when one of them dropped round Nell, who sat beside 
him, she squeezed his hand tight. “Sure, it’s the regular 
thing,” he concluded, cheerfully. 

He rather felt a little glee at Mr. Gale’s distress, and 
Mrs. Gale’s crushed I-told-you-so woe in no wise bothered 
him; but the look in the big, dark eyes of Dick’s sister 
was too much for Belding. 

He choked off his characteristic oath when excited and 
blurted cut, “Say, but Dick Gale never went to the bad! 
. . . Listen!” 

Belding had scarcely started Dick Gale’s story when he 
perceived that never in his life had he such an absorbed 
243 


DESERT GOLD 

and breathless audience. Presently they were awed, 
and at the conclusion of that story they sat white-faced, 
still, amazed beyond speech. Dick Gale’s advent in 
Casita, his rescue of Mercedes, his life as a border ranger 
certainly lost no picturesque or daring or even noble 
detail in Belding’s telling. He kept back nothing but the 
present doubt of Dick’s safety. 

pick’s sister was the first of the three to recover herself. 

Oh, father!” she cried; and there was a glorious light 
in her eyes. “ Deep down in my heart I knew Dick was a 
man!” 

Mr. Gale, rose unsteadily from his chair. Kis frailty 
was now painfully manifest. 

“Mr. Belding, do you mean my son—Richard Gale—has 
done all that 3 ^ou told us?” he asked, incredulously. 

“I sure do,” replied Belding, with hearty good will. 
f Martha, do you hear?” Mr. Gale turned to question 
his wife. She could not answer. Her face had not yet, 
regained its natural color. 

H<^ faced that bandit and his gang alone—he fought 
them? demanded Mr. Gale, his voice stronger. 

“Dick mopped up the floor with the whole outfit!” 

“He rescued a Spanish girl, went into the desert 
without food, weapons, anything but his hands ? Richard 
Gale, whose hands were always useless?” 

Belding nodded with a grin. 

“He’s a ranger now—riding, fighting, sleeping on the 
sand, preparing his own food?” 

“Well, I should smile,” rejoined Belding. 

“He cares for his horse, with his own hands?” This 
query seemed to be the climax of Mr. Gale’s strange 
hunger for truth. He had raised his head a little higher, 
and his eye was brighter. 

Mention of a horse fired Belding’s blood. 

“Does Dick Gale core for his horse? Say, there are 
not many men as well loved as that white horse of Dick’s. 
Blanco Sol he is, Mr. Gale. That’s Mex for White Sun. 

2.44 


A LOST SON 

Wait till you see Blanco Sol! Bar one, the whitest, biggest, 
strongest, iastest, grandest horse in the Southwest!” 

“So he loves a horse! I shall not know my own son. 
. . . Mr. Belding, you say Richard works for you. May 
I ask, at what salary?” 

“He gets forty dollars, board and outfit,” replied Beld- 
ing, proudly. 

“Forty dollars?” echoed the father. “By the day or 
week?” 

“The month, of course,” said Belding, somewhat taken 
aback. 

“Forty dollars a month for a young man who spent 
five hundred in the same time when he was a+ college, 
and who ran it into thousands when he got out!” 

Mr. Gale laughed for the first time, and it was the laugh 
of a man who wanted to believe what he heard yet 
scarcely dared to do it. 

“What does he do with so much money—money 
earned by peril, toil, sweat, and blood? Forty dollars a 
month!” 

“He saves it,” replied Belding. 

Evidently this was too much for Dick Gale’s father, and 
he gazed at his wife in sheer speechless astonishment. 
Dick’s sister clapped her hands like a little child. 

Belding saw that the moment was propitious. 

“Sure he saves it. Dick’s engaged to marry Nell here. 
My stepdaughter, Nell Burton.” 

“Oh-h, Dad!” faltered Nell; and she rose, white as her 
dress. 

How strange it was to see Dick’s mother and sister rise, 
also, and turn to Nell with dark, proud, searching ejres. 
Belding vaguely realized some blunder he had made. 
Nell’s white, appealing face gave him a pang. What had 
he done? Surely this family of Dick’s ought to know his 
relation to Nell. There was a silence that positively mad.* 
Belding nervous. 

Then Elsie Gale stepped close to Nell. 

245 


DESERT GOLD 


“Miss Burton, are you really Richard’s betrothed?” 

Nell's tremulous lips framed an affirmative, but never 
uttered it. She held out her hand, showing the ring 
Dick had given her. Miss Gale’s recognition was instant, 
and her response was warm, sweet, .gracious. 

“ I think I am going to be very, very glad,” she said, and 
kissed Nell. 

“Miss Burton, w r e are learning wonderful things about 
Richard,” added Mr. Gale, in an earnest though shaken 
voice. “If you have had to do with making a man of 
him—and now I begin to see, to believe so—may God bless 
you! . . . My dear girl, I have not really looked at you. 
Richard’s fiancee!. . . Mother, we have not found him yet, 
but I think we’ve found his secret. We believed him a 
lost son. But here is his sweetheart!” 

It was only then that the pride and hauteur of Mrs. 
Gale’s face broke into an expression of mingled pain and 
joy. She opened her arms. Nell, uttering a strange 
little stifled cry, flew into them. 

Belding suddenly discovered an unaccountable blur 
in his sight. He could not see perfectly, and that was 
why, when Mrs. Belding entered the sitting-room, he was 
not certain that her face was as sad and white as it seemed. 


XV 


BOUND IN THE DESERT 

F AR away from Forlorn River Dick Gale sat stunned, 
gazing down into the purple depths where Rojas 
had plunged to his death. The Yaqui stood motionless 
upon the steep red wall of lava from which he had cut the 
bandit’s hold. Mercedes lay quietly where she had 
fallen. From across the depths there came to Gale’s 
ear the Indian’s strange, wild cry. 

Then silence, hollow, breathless, stony silence en¬ 
veloped the great abyss and its upheaved lava walls. 
The sun was setting. Every instant the haze reddened 
and thickened. 

Action on the part of the Yaqui loosened the spell which 
held Gale as motionless as his surroundings. The Indian 
was edging back toward the ledge. He did not move 
with his former lithe and sure freedom. He crawled, 
slipped, dragged himself, rested often, and went on again. 
He had been wounded. When at last he reached the 
ledge where Mercedes lay Gale jumped to his feet, strong 
and thrilling, spurred to meet the responsibility that now 
rested upon him. 

Swiftly he turned to where Thome lay. The cavalry¬ 
man was just returning to consciousness. Gale ran for a 
canteen, bathed his face, made him drink. The look in 
Thome’s eyes was hard to bear. 

“Thome! Thome! it’s all right, it’s all right!” cried 
Gale, in piercing tones. “Mercedes is safe! Yaqui 
saved her! Rojas is done for! Yaqui jumped down the 
wall and drove the bandit off the ledge. Cut him loose 
17 247 


DESERT GOLD 


from the wall, foot by foot, hand by hand! We’ve won 
the fight, Thome/' 

For Thome these were marvelous strength - giving 
words. The dark horror left his eyes, and they began to 
dilate, to shine. He stood up, dizzily but unaided, and 
he gazed across the crater. Yaqui had reached the side 
of Mercedes, was bending over her. She stirred. Yaqui 
lifted her to her feet. She appeared weak, unable to stand 
alone. But she faced across the crater and waved her 
hand. She was unharmed. Thome lifted both arms 
above his head, and from his lips issued a cry. It was 
neither call nor holloa nor welcome nor answer. Like 
the Yaqui’s, it could scarcely be named. But it was deep, 
husky, prolonged, terribly human in its intensity. It 
made Gale shudder and made his heart beat like a trip 
hammer. Mercedes again waved a white hand. The 
Yaqui w T aved, too, and Gale saw in the action an urgent/ 
signal. 

Hastily taking up canteen and rifles, Gale put a support¬ 
ing arm round Thome. 

“Come, old man. Can you walk? Sure you can walk! 
Lean on me, and we’ll soon get out of this!’ Don’t look 
across. Look where you step. We’ve not much time 
before dark. Oh, Thome, I’m afraid Jim has cashed in! 
And the last I saw of Laddy he was badly hurt.” 

, Gale was ^yed up to a high pitch of excitement and 
alertness. He seemed to be able to do many things. 
But once off the ragged notched lava into the trail he had 
not such difficulty with. Thorne, and could keep his keen 
gaze shifting everywhere for sight of enemies. 

“Listen, Thome! What’s that?” asked Gale, halting 
85 fhey came to a place where the trail led down through 
rough breaks in the lava. The silence was broken by a 
strange sound, almost unbelievable considering the time 
and place. A voice was droning: “Turn the lady, turn! 
Turn the lady, turn! Alamon left. AH swing; turn the 
lady, turn!” 


248 


BOUND IN THE DESERT 


‘‘Hello, Jim,” called Gale, dragging Thorne round the 
comer of lava. “Where are you? Oh, you son of a gun* 
I thought you were dead. Oh, I’m glad to see you* 
Jim, are you hurt?” 

Jim Lash stood in the trail leaning over the butt of his 
rifle, which evidently he was utilizing as a crutch. He was 
pale but smiling. His hands were bloody. A scarf had 
been bound tightly round his left leg just above the knee. 
The leg hung limp, and the foot dragged. 

“I reckon I ain’t injured much,” replied Jim. “But 
my leg hurts like hell, if you want to know.” 

“Laddy! Oh, where’s Laddy?” 

“He’s just across the crack there. I was trying to get 
to him. We had it hot an’ heavy down here. Laddy was 
pretty bad shot up before he tried to head Rojas off the 
trail. ... Dick, did you see the Yaqui go after Rojas?” 

“Did I!” exclaimed Gale, grimly. 

“The finish was all that saved me from runnin’ locp 
plumb over the rim. You see I was closer’n you to whefe 
Mercedes was hid. When Rojas an’ his last Greaser 
started across, Laddy went after them, but I ceuldn’fc. 
Laddy did for Rojas’s man, then went down himself. 
But he got up an’ fell, got up, went on, an’ fell again, 
Laddy kept doin’ that till he dropped for good. I reckon 
our chances are against findin’ him alive. ... I tell you, 
boys, Rojas was hell-bent. An* Mercedes was gams. 
I saw her shoot him. But mebbe bullets couldn’t stop 
him then. If I didn’t sweat blood when Mercedes was 
fightin’ him on the cliff! Then the finish) Only a Yaqui 
could have done that. . . . Thome, you didn’t miss it?” 

“Yes, I was down and out,” replied the cavalryman. 

“It’s a shame. Greatest stunt I ever seen) Thorny, 
you’re standin’ up pretty fair. How about you? Dick, 
is he bad hurt?” 

“No, he’s not. A hard knock on the skull and a scalp 
wound,” replied Dick. “Here, Jim, let me help you 
over this place.” 

2 49 


DESERT GOLD 


Step by step Gale got the two injured men down the 
uneven declivity and then across the narrow lava bridge 
over the fissure. Here he bade them rest while he went 
along the trail on that side to search for Laddy„ Gale 
found the ranger stretched out, face downward, a reddened 
hand clutching a gun. Gale thought he was dead. Upon 
examination, however, it was found that Ladd still lived, 
though he had many wounds. Gale lifted him and car¬ 
ried him back to the others. 

“He’s alive, but that’s all,” said Dick, as he laid the 
ranger down. “Do what you can. Stop the blood. 
Laddy’s tough as cactus, you know. I’ll hurry back for 
Mercedes and Yaqui.” 

Gale, like a fleet, sure-footed mountain sheep, ran along 
the trail. When he came across the Mexican, Rojas’s 
last ally, Gale had evidence of the terrible execution of the 
.405. He did not pause. On the first part of that descent 
he made faster time than had Rojas. But he exercised 
care along the hard, slippery, ragged slope leading to the 
ledge. Presently he came upon Mercedes and the Yaqui. 
She ran right into Dick’s arms, and there her strength, 
if not her courage, broke, and she grew lax. 

“Mercedes, you’re safe! Thorne’s safe. It’s all right 
now.’’ 

“Rojas!” she whispered, 

“Gone! To the bottom of the crater? A YaquFs 
vengeance, Mercedes.” 

He heard the girl whisper the name of the Virgin. Then 
he gathered her up in his arms. 

“Come, Yaqui.” 

The Indian grunted. He had one hand pressed close 
over a bloody place in his shoulder. Gale looked keenly 
at him. Yaqui was inscrutable, as of old, yet Gale some* 
how knew that wound meant little to hirm The Indian 
followed him. 

Without pausing, moving slowly in some places, very 
carefully in others, and swiftly on the smooth part of the 
250 


BOUND IN THE DESERT 


wail, Gale carried Mercedes up to the rim and along tc 
the others, Jim Lash worked awkwardly over Ladd. 
Thorne was trying to assist. Ladd, himself, was conscious- 
but he was a pallid, apparently a death-stricken man. 
The greeting between Mercedes and Thorne was calm—* 
strangely so, it seemed to Gale. But he was now calm 
himself. Ladd smiled at him, and evidently would have 
spoken had he the power. Yaqui then joined the group, 
and his piercing eyes roved from one to the other, lingering 
tongest over Ladd. 

“Dick, I’m figger’n’ hard,” said Jim, faintly. “In a 
minute it ’ll be up to you an’ Mercedes. I’ve about 
shot my bolt. . . . Reckon you’ll do—best by bringin’ up 
blankets — water — salt — firewood. Laddy’s got — one 
chance—in a hundred. Fix him up—first. Use hot salt 
water. If my leg’s broke 1 —set it best you can. That 
hole in Yaqui—only ’ll bother him a day. Thome’s bad 
hurt. . . . Now rustle—Dick, old—boy.” 

Lash’s voice died away in a husky whisper, and he 
quietly lay back, stretching out all but the crippled leg. 
Gale examined it, assured himself the bones had not been 
broken, and then rose ready to go down the trail. 

“Mercedes, hold Thome’s head up, in your lap—so. 
Now I’il go.” 

On the moment Yaqui appeared to have completed the 
binding of his wounded shoulder, and he started to follow 
Gale. He paid no attention to Gale’s order for him to stay 
back. But he was slow', and gradually Gale forged ahead 
The lingering brightness of the sunset lightened the trail, 
and the descent to the arroyo was swift and easy. Some 
of the white horses had come in for water. Blanco Sol 
spied Gale and whistled and came pounding toward him. 
It was twilight down in the arroyo. Yaqui appeared and 
began collecting a bundle of mesquite sticks. Gale 
hastily put together the things he needed; and, packing 
them all in a tarpaulin, he turned to retrace his steps up 
the trail. 




DESERT GOLD 

Darkness was setting in. The trail was narrow, ex¬ 
ceedingly steep, and in some places fronted on precipices. 
Gale’s burden was not very heavy, but its bulk made it 
unwieldy, and it was always overbalancing him or knock- 
*Ag against the wall side of the trail. Gale found it 
necessary to wait for Yaqui to take the lead. The In¬ 
dian’s eyes must have seen as well at night as by day. 
Gale toiled upward, shouldering, swinging, dragging the 
big pack, and, though the ascent of the slope was not 
really long, it seemed endless. At last they reached a 
level, and were soon on the spot with Mercedes and the 
injured men. 

Gale then set to work. Yaqui’s part was to keep the 
fire blazing and the water hot, Mercedes’s to help Gale 
in what way she could. Gale found Ladd had many 
wounds, yet not one of them was directly in a vital place. 
Evidently, the ranger had almost bled to death. He re¬ 
gained unconscious through Gale’s operations. Accord¬ 
ing to Jim. Lash, Ladd had one chance in a hundred, but 
Gale considered it one in a thousand. Having done all 
that v/as possible for the ranger, Gale slipped blankets 
under and around him, and then turned his attention to 
Lash. 

Jim came out of his stupor. A mushrooming bullet 
had torn a great hole in Ms leg. Gale, upon examination 
cohld not be sure the bones had been missed, but there was 
no bad break, lhe application of hot salt water made 
Jim groan. When he had been bandaged and laid beside 
Ladd, Gale went on to the cavalryman. Thome was very 
v/cak and scarcely conscious. A furrow had been plowed 
through his scalp down to the bone. When it had been 
dressed, Mercedes collapsed. Gale laid her with the three 
m a row and covered them with blankets and the tar¬ 
paulin. 

Then Yaqui submitted to examination. A bullet had 
gate through the Indian’s shoulder. To Gale it appeared 
s«*>us. Yaqui said it was a flea bite. But he allowed 
25 2 


BOUND IN THE DESERT 

Gale to bandage it, and obeyed when he was told to lie 
quiet in his blanket beside the fire. 

Gale stood guard. He seemed still calm, and wondered 
at what he considered a strange absence of poignant feel¬ 
ing. If he had felt weariness it was now gone. He coaxed 
the fire with as little wood as would keep it burning; he sat 
beside it; he walked to and fro close by; sometimes he stood 
over the five sleepers, wondering if two of them, at least, 
would ever awaken. * 

Time had passed swiftly, but as the necessity for im¬ 
mediate action had gone by, the hours gradually assumed 
something of their normal length. The night wore qn. 
The air grew colder, the stars brighter, the sky bluer, an$, 
if such could be possible, the silence more intense. T&b 
fire burned out, and for lack of wood could not be rekindled. 
Gale patrolled his short beat, becoming colder and damper 
as dawn approached. The darkness grew so dense that bp 
could not see the pale faces of the sleepers. He dreaded 
the gray dawn and the light. Slowly the heavy black 
belt close to the lava changed to a pale gloom, then to gray, 
and after that morning came quickly. 

The hour had come for Dick Gale to face his great prob¬ 
lem. It was natural that he hung back a little at first,, 
natural that when he went forward to look at the qmet 
sleepers he did so with a grim and stern force urging him. 
Yaqui stirred, roused, yawned, got up; and, though he did 
not smile at Gale, a light shone swiftly across his dark face. 
His shoulder drooped and appeared stiff, otherwise he was 
himself. Mercedes lay in deep slumber. Thorne had a 
high fever, and was beginning to show signs of restless¬ 
ness. Ladd seemed just barely alive. Jim Lash slept as 
if he was not much the worse for his wound. 

Gale rose from his examination with a sharp breaking of 
his cold mood. While there was life in Thorne and Ladd 
there was hope for them. Then he faced his problem., 
and his decision was instant. . , 

He awoke Mercedes. How wondering, wistful, beau- 
253 


1 


DESERT GOLD 


tiful was that first "opening flash of her eyes! Then the 
dark, troubled thought came. Swiftly she sat up. 

Mercedes come. Are you all right? JLaddy is alive 
Thorne’s not—not so bad. But we’ve got a job on our 
hands! You must help me.” 

She bent over Thorne and laid her hands on his hot face. 
Then she rose—a woman such as he had imagined she 
might be in an hour of trial. * 

Gale took up Ladd as carefully and gently as possible. 
“Mercedes, bring what you can carry and follow me,” 
he said. Then, motioning for Yaqui to remain there, he 
turned down the slope with Ladd in his arms. 

Neither pausing nor making a misstep nor conscious of 
great effort, Gale carried the wounded man down into the 
arroyo Mercedes kept at his heels, light, supple, lithe as 
a panther. He left her with Ladd and went back. When 
he had started off with Thome in his arms he felt the tax 
on his strength. Surely and swiftly, however, he bore the 
cavalryman down the trail to lay him beside Ladd. A crain 
he started back, and when he began to mount the steep 
lava steps he was hot, wet, breathing hard. As he reached 
the scene of that night’s camp a voice greeted him Tim 
Lash was sitting up. 

T ?? e l lo ’-P ick * 1 woke some late this mornin’. Where’s 
Laddy? Dick, you ain’t a-goin’ to say—” 

“Laddy’s alive—that’s about all,” replied Dick 
“Where’s Thome an’ Mercedes? Look here, man. 

1 Tft 11 am t packm ’ this cri Ppled outfit down that 


“Had to, Jim. An hour’s sun—would kill—both Laddy 
and I home. Come on now.” 

J or once J lrtl hash’s cool good nature and careless in- 
dilterence gave precedence to amaze and concern 
“Always knew you was a husky chap. But Dick 
you re no hoss! Get me a crutch an’ give me a’lift on 
one side. 


Come on, replied Gale. “I’ve no time to monkey.” 
254 


BOUND IN THE DESERT 

He lifted the ranger, called to Yaqui to follow with some 
of the camp outfit, and once more essayed the steep de* 
scent. Jim Lash was the heaviest man of the three, and 
Gale’s strength was put to enormous strain to carry him 
on that broken trail. Nevertheless, Gale went down, 
down, walking swiftly and surely over the bad places; 
and at last he staggered into the arroyo with bursting 
heart and red-blinded eyes. When he had recovered he 
made a final trip up the slope for the camp effects which 
Yaqui had been unable to carry. 

Then he drew Jim and Mercedes and Yaqui, also, into 
an earnest discussion of ways and means whereby to fight 
for the life of Thome. Ladd’s case Gale now considered 
hopeless, though he meant to fight for him, too, as long as 
he breathed. 

In the labor of watching and nursing it seemed to txale 
that two days and two nights slipped by like a few hours. 
During that time the Indian recovered from his injury, 
and became capable of performing all except heavy tasks 
Then Gale succumbed to weariness. After bis much* 
needed rest he relieved Mercedes of the care and watch 
over Thome which, up to that time, she had absolutely 
refused to relinquish. The cavalryman had high fever, 
and Gale feared he had developed blood poisoning. He re- 
quired constant attention. His condition slowly grew 
worse, and there came a day which Gale thought surely 
was the end. But that day passed, and the night, and the 
next day, and Thome lived on, ghastly, stricken, raving. 
Mercedes hung over him with jealous, passionate care and 
did all that could have been humanly done for a man. 
She grew wan, absorbed, silent. But suddenly, and to 
Gale’s amaze and thanksgiving, there came an abatement 
of Thome’s fever. With it some of the heat and redness 
of the inflamed wound disappeared. Next morning he was 
conscious, and Gale grasped seme of the hope that Mer¬ 
cedes had never abandoned. He forced her to rest while 
he attended to Thome. That day he saw that the crisis 
255 


DESERT GOLD 

fcr&s past Recovery for Thome was .now possible, and 
would perhaps depend entirely upon the care he received. 

Jim Lash s wound healed without any aggravating 
symptoms. It would be only a matter of time until he 
had the use of his leg again. All these days, however, 
thpre was little apparent change in Ladd’s condition 
unless it was that he seemed to fade away as he lingered., 
At first liis wounds remained open; they bled a little all 
time outwardly, perhaps iritemaily also; his blood did 
npt seem to clot, and so the bullet holes did not close. 
Then Yaqui asked for the care of Ladd. Gale yielded it 
with opposing thoughts—that Ladd would waste slowly 
away till life ceased, and that there never was any telling 
What might lie in the power of this strange Indian. Yaqui 
absented himself from camp for a while, and when he re- 
turned he carried the roots and leaves of desert plants 
unknown to Gale. Prom these the Indian brewed an 
ointment, Then he stripped the bandages from Ladd 
pnd apphed the mixture to his wounds. That done, he 
m him lie with the wounds exposed to the air, at night 
cohering him. Next day he again exposed the wounds to 
warm, dry air. Slowly they dosed, and Ladd ceased 
to, bleed externally. 

Days passed and grew into what Gale imagined must 
have been weeks. Yaqui recovered fully. Jim 
began to move about on a crutch; he shared the Indian’s 
watch over Ladd. Thome lay a haggard, emaciated 
gliost of h !3 former rugged self, but with life in the eyes 
diat turned always toward Mercedes. Ladd lingered and 
lingered. The life seemingly would not leave his bullet* 
pierced, body. He faded, withered, shrunk till he was al¬ 
most a skeleton. He knew those who worked and watched 
over him, but he had no power of speech. His eyes and 
eyeuds moved; the rest of him seemed stone. All those 
days nothing except water was given him. It was mar¬ 
velous how tenaciously, however feebly, he clung to life 
Gale imagined it was the Yaqui’s spirit that held back 
256 


BOUND IN THE DESERT 

death. That tireless, implacable, inscrutable savage was 
ever at the ranger's side., His great somber eyes burned 
At length he went to Gale, and, with that strange light 
flitting across the hard bronzed face, he said Ladd would 
live. 

The second day after Ladd had been given such thin 
nourishment as he could swallow he recovered the use of 
bis tongue, 

“Shore—this's—hell,'' he whispered 

That was a characteristic speech for the ranger, Gale 
thought; and indeed it’made all who heard it smile while 
their eyes were wet. 

From that time forward Ladd gained, but he gained so 
immeasurably slowly that only the eyes of hope could 
have seen any improvement. Jim Lash threw away his 
crutch, and Thome was well, if still somewhat weak, before 
Ladd could lift his arm or turn his head. A kind of 
long, immovable gloom passed, like a shadow, from his 
face. His whispers grew stronger. And the day arrived 
when Gale, who was perhaps the least optimistic, threw 
doubt to the winds and knew the ranger would get well. 
For Gale that joyous moment of realization was one in 
which he seemed to return to a former self long absent. 
He experienced an elevation of soul. He was suddenly 
overwhelmed with gratefulness, humility, awe. A gloomy 
black terror had passed by. He wanted to thank the 
faithful Mercedes, and Thome for getting well, and the 
cheerful Lash, and Ladd himself, and that strange and 
wonderful Yaqui, now such a splendid figure. He thought 
of home and Nell, The terrible encompassing red slopes 
lost something of their fearsomeness, and there was a good 
spirit hovering near. 

“ Boys, come round," said Ladd, in his low voice, “ An 6 
you, Mercedes. An* call the Yaqui ” 

Ladd lay in the shade of the brush shelter that had been 
257 


DESERT GOLD 


erected* His head was raised slightly on a pillow . Them 
seemed little of him but long lean lines, and if it had not 
been for his keen, thoughtful, kindly eyes, his face would 
have resembled a death mask of a man starved, 

“Shore I want go know what day is it an’ what month?" 
asked Ladd. 

Nobody could answer him. The question seemed & 
surprise to Gale, and evidently was so to the others. 

“Look at that cactus/’ went on Ladd, 

Near the wall of lava a stunted saguaro lifted its head 
A few shriveled blossoms that had once been white hung 
along the fluted column 

“I reckon according to that giant cactus it’s some- 
wheres along the end of March/* said Jim Lash, soberly* 

“Shore it's April, Lock where the sun is. An* can’t 
you feel it's gettin* hot?” 

“Supposin’ it is April?” queried Lash, slowly,. 

** Well, what Fm drivin’ at is it*s about time you all 
was hit u' the trail back to Forlorn River f before the 
waterholes dry out/* 

“Laddy, I reckon we’ll start soon as you’re able to be 
put on a hossW 

“Shore that *11 be too late/* 

A silence ensued, in which those who heard Ladd gazed 
fixedly at him and then at one another. Lash uneasily 
shifted the position of his lame leg, and Gale saw him 
moisten his lips with his tongue. 

Charlie Ladd, I ain’t reckonin’ you mean we’re to 
ride off an* leave you here?” 

“What else is there to do? The hot weather's close. 
Pretty soon most of the waterholes will be dry. You 
can’t travel then. . . . Fm on my back here, an’ God 
only knows when I could be packed out. Not for weeks, 
mebbe. I’ll never be any good again, even if I was to get 
out alive...» You see, shore this sort of case comes round 
sometimes in the desert. It’s common enough. I’ve 
heard of several cases where men had to go an’ leave a 


BOUND IN THE DESERT 

feller behind It's reasonable- If you're fightin’ thfc 
desert you can’t afford to be sentimental „ . . Now, as i 
said. I’m all in. So what’s the sense of you waitin’' here, 
when it means the old desert story? By goin’ now 
tnebbe you’ll get home. If you wait on a chance of takin ; 
me s you’ll be too late. Pretty soon this lava ’ll be me 
roastin’ hell-. Shore now, boys, you'll see this the right 
way? Jim, old pard?” 

“No, Laddy, an' I can’t figger how you could ever ask 
me/’ 

41 Shore then leave me here with Yaqui an a couple of 
the bosses. We can eat sheep meat An’ if the water 
holds out—* 8 

“No!” interrupted Lash, violently 

Ladd’s-eyes sought Gale’s face. 

“Son, you ain’t bull-headed like Jim. You’ll see the 
sense of ito There’s Nell a-waitin’ back at Forlorn River 
Think what it means to her t She’s a damn fine girl, Dick, 
an’ what right have you to break her heart for an old 
worn-out cowpuncherr Think how she’s watchin* for 
you with that sweet face all sad an’ troubled, an* her eyes 
turnin’ black. You’ll go, son. won’t you?’* 

Dick shook his head. 

The ranger turned his gaze upon Thome, and now the 
keen, glistening light in his gray eyes had blurred. 

“Thome, it’s different with you. Jim’s a fool, an* 
young Gale has been punctured by ckoya thorns. He’s 
got the desert poison in liis blood. But you now—you’ve 
no call to stick—you can find that trail out. It’s easy 
to follow, made by so many shod hosses. Take your 
wife an* go..,. Shore you’ll go, Thome?” 

Deliberately and without an instant’s hesitation the 
cavalryman replied “No.” 

Ladd then directed his appeal to Mercedes. His face 
was now convulsed, and his voice, though it had sunk to a 
whisper, was clear, and beautiful with some rich quality 
that Gale had never before heard in it. 

259 


DESERT GOLD 


“Mercedes, you’re a woman. You’re the woman we 
fought for. An’ some of us are shore goin’ to die for you. 
Don’t make it all for nothin’. Let us fed we saved the 
woman. Shore you can make Thome go. He’ll have to 
go if you say. They’ll all have to go. Think of the 
years of love an’ happiness in store for you. A week or 
so an’ it ’ll be too late. Can you stand for me seein’ you? 
... Let me tell you, Mercedes, when the summer heat hits 
the lava we’ll all wither an’ curl up like shavin’s near a 
fire. A wind of hell will blow up this slope. Look at 
them mesquites. See the twist in them. That’s the 
torture of heat an* thirst. Do you want me or all us men 
seein’ you like that? . . . Mercedes, don't make it all for 
nothin’. Say you’ll persuade Thome, if not the others. 5 * 
For all the effect his appeal had to move her Mercedes 
might have possessed a heart as hard and fixed as the 
surrounding lava. 

“Never!” 

' White-faced, with great black eyes Bashing, the Spanish 
girl spoke the word that bound her and her companions 
in the desert. 

The subject was never mentioned again Gala thought 
that he read a sinister purpose in Ladd’s mind To his 
astonishment, Lash came to him with the same fancy. 
After that they made certain there never was a gun 
within reach of Ladd’s clutching, clawlike hands; 

Gradually a somber spell lifted from the ranger’s mind. 
When he was entirely free of it he began to ga ther strength 
daily. Then it was as :f he had never known patience-- 
he who had shown so well how to wait He was in a 
frenzy to get well. His appetite couid n,‘t be satisfied. 

The sun climbed higher, whiter, hotter At midday a 
wind from gulfward roared up the arroyo, and now only 
the paio verdes and the few scguaros were green. Every 
day the water in the lava hole sank an inch. 

The Yaqui alone spent the waiting time in activitv. 
fie made trips up on the lava slope, and each time he re* 
260 


BOUND IN THE DESERT 

turned with guns or boots or sombreros, or something 
belonging to the bandits that had fallen. He never 
fetched in a saddle or bridle, and from that the rangers 
concluded Rojas’s horses had long before taken their back 
i trail. What speculation, what consternation those sad* 
died horses would cause if they returned to Forlorn River ) 
As Ladd improved . 'ere was one story he had to hear 
every day. It was the one relating to what he had missed 
—the sight of Rojas pursued and plunged to his doom. 
The thing had a morbid fascination for the sick ranger 
He reveled in it. He tortured Mercedes His gentle¬ 
ness and consideration, heretofore so marked, were in 
abeyance to some sinister, ghastly joy, But to humor 
him Mercedes racked her soul with the sensations she had 
suffered when Rojas hounded her out on the ledge; when 
she sboi when she sprang to throw' herself over the 
precipice when she fought him; when with half-blinded 
eyes she looked up to see the merciless Yaqui reaching for 
the bandit Ladd fed his cruel longing with Thornes 
poignant recollections, with the keen, dear, never-to 
be-forgotten shocks to Gale’s eye and ear, Jim Lash, 
for one at least, never tired of telling how he had seen and 
| heard the tragedy and every time in the telling it gathered 
! some more tragic and gruesome detail. Jim believed m 
satiating the ranger Then in the twilight, when the camp¬ 
fire burned, Ladd would try to get the Yaqui to tell hk 
side of the story. But this the Indian would never do 
There was only the expression of his fathomless eyes and 
the set passion of his massive face. 

Those waiting days grew into weeks. Ladd gained very 
slowly Nevertheless, at last he could walk about, and 
soon he averred that, strapped to a horse, he could last 
out the trip to Forlorn River, 

There was rejoicing in camp, and plans were eagerly 
suggested. The Yaqui happened to be absent. When he 
returned the rangers told him they were now ready to 
undertake the journey back across lava and cactus 
261 




DESERT GOLD 

Yacjtii shook his head. They declared again their in« 
tention. 

“No!" replied the Indian, and his deep, sonorous voice 
rolled out upon the quiet of the arroyo. He spoke briefly 
then. They had waited too long. The smaller water- 
holes back in the trail were dry. The hot summer was 
upon them. There could be onb' death waiting down 
in the burning vaLley. Here was water and grass and wood 
and shade from the sun’s rays, and sheep to be killed on 
the peaks. The water would hold unless the season was 
that dreaded mo seco of the Mexicans. 

"Wait for rain," concluded Yaqui, and now as never 
before he spoke as one with authority. "If no rain— w 
Silently he lifted a speaking hand. 


MOUNTAIN SHEEP 


HAT Gale might have thought an appalling situa¬ 



tion, if considered from a safe and comfortable home 


away from the desert, became, now that he was shut in by 
the red-ribbed lava walls and great dry wastes, a matter 
calmly accepted as inevitable. So he imagined it was 
accepted by the others. Not even Mercedes uttered a 
regret. No word was spoken of home. If there was 
thought of loved ones, it was locked deep in their minds. 
In Mercedes there was no change in womanly quality, 
perhaps because all she had to love was there in the desert 
with her. 

Gale had often pondered over this singular change in 
character. He had trained himself, in order to fight a 
paralyzing something in the desert's influence, to oppose 
with memory and thought an insidious primitive retro¬ 
gression to what was scarcely consciousness at all, merely 
a savage’s instinct of sight and sound. He felt the need 
now of redoubled effort. For there was a sheer happiness 
in drifting. Not only was it easy to forget, it was hard to 
remember. His idea was that a man laboring under a 
great wrong, a great crime, a great passion might find the 
lonely desert a fitting place for either remembrance or 
oblivion, according to the nature of his soul. But an or- 
rlin?, \ healthy, reasonably happy mortal who loved the 
open with its blaze of sun and sweep of wind would have 
a task to keep from going backward to the natural man as 
he was before civilization. 

By tacit agreement Ladd again became the leader of 


263 


DESERT GOLD 


the party. Ladd was a man who would have taken all 
the responsibility whether or not it was given him. In 
moments of hazard, of uncertainty, Lash and Gale, even 
Belding, unconsciously looked to the ranger. He had that 
kind of power. 

The first thing Ladd asked was to have the store of 
rood that remained spread out upon a tarpaulin. As¬ 
suredly, it was a slender enough supply. The ranger stood 
for long moments gazing down at it. He was groping 
among past experiences, calling back from hie years of 
life on range and desert that which might be valuable for 
the present issue. It was impossible to read the gravity 
of Ladd’s face, for he still looked like a dead man, but the 
slow shake of his head told Gale much. There was a 
grain of hope, however, in the significance with which he 
touched the bags of salt and said, " Shore it was sense 
packin’ all that salt!” 

Then he turned to face his comrades, 

“ That’s little grub for six starvin’ people corralled in 
the desert. But the grub end ain’t worryin’ me, Yaqui 
can get sheep up the slopes. Water! That’s the begin- 
nin J an’ middle an* end of our case.” 

”Laddy, I reckon the waterhcie here never goes dry.” 
replied Jim. 

“ Ask the Indian,” 

Upon being questioned, Yaqui repeated what he had 
said about the dreaded ano seco of the Mexicans. In a 
dry year this waterhole failed. 

“ Dick, take a rope an’ see how much water’s in the hole.” 

Gale could not find bottom with a thirty foot lasso. 
The water was as cool, clear, sweet as if it had been kept 
in a shaded iron receptacle. 

Ladd welcomed this information with surprise and 
gladness. 

“Let’s see. Last year w T as shore pretty drv. Mebbe 
this summer won’t be. Mebbe our wonderful good 
luck ’ll hold. Ask Yaqui if he thinks it ’ll rain.” 

264 


MOUNTAIN SHEEP 


Mercedes questioned the Indian. 

“He says no man can tell surely. But he thinks the 
rain will come,” she replied. 

“Shore it ’ll rain, you can gamble on that now,” con¬ 
tinued Ladd. “ If there’s only grass for the hosses! We 
can’t get out of here without hosses. Dick, take the 
Indian an’ scout down the arroyo. To-day I seen the 
hosses were gettin’ fat. Gettin’ fat in this desert! But 
mebbe they’ve about grazed up all the grass. Go an* 
see, Dick. An’ may you come back with more good 
news!” 

Gale, upon the few occasions when he had wandered 
down the arroyo, had never gone far. The Yaqui said 
there was grass for the horses, and until now no one had 
given the question more consideration. Gale found that 
the arroyo widened as it opened. Near the head, where 
it was narrow, the grass lined the course of the dry stream 
bed. But farther down this stream bed spread out. 
There was every indication that at flood seasons the water 
covered the floor of the arroyo. The farther Gale went 
the thicker and larger grew the gnarled mesquites and 
palo verdes , the more cactus and greasewood there were, 
and other desert growths. Patches of gray grass grew 
everywhere. Gale began to wonder where the horses 
were. Finally the trees and brush thinned out, and a 
mile-wide gray plain stretched down to reddish sand 
dunes. Over to one side were the white horses, and even 
as Gale saw them both Blanco Diablo and Sol lifted their 
heads and, with white manes tossing in the wind, whistled 
clarion calls. Here was,grass enough for many horses; 
the arroyo was indeed an oasis. 

Ladd and the others were awaiting Gale’s report, and 
they received it with calmness, yet with a .joy no less 
evident because it was restrained. Gale, in his keen 
observation at the moment, found that he and his com¬ 
rades turned with glad eyes to the woman of the 
party. 


265 


DESERT GOLD 


“Senor Laddy, you think—you believe—wo shall—” she 
faltered, and her voice failed. It was the woman in her, 
weakening in the light of real hope, of the happiness now 
possible beyond that desert barrier. 

’‘Mercedes, no white man can tell what 11 come to pass 
out here,” said Ladd, earnestly, “Shore I have hopes 
now I never dreamed of. I was pretty near a dead man. 
The Indian saved me. Queer notions have come into 
my head about Yaqui. I don’t understand them. He 
seems when you look at him only a squalid, sullen, venge¬ 
ful savage. But Lord! that’s far from truth. Mebbe 
Yaqui’s different from most Indians. He looks the same, 
though. Mebbe the trouble is we wliite folks never knew 
the Indian. Anyway, Beldin 5 had it right, Yaqui’s 
our godsend. Now as to the future, I’d like to know 
mebbe as well as you if we’re ever to get home. Only 
bein what I am, I say, Quten sabef But somethin’ tells 
me Yaqui knows. Ask him, Mercedes. Make him tell. 
We’ll all be the better for knowing We’d be stronger for 
havin’ more’n our faith in him. He’s a silent Indian, but 
make him tell.” 

Mercedes called to Yaqui. At her bidding there was 
always a suggestion of hurry, which otherwise was never 
manifest in his actions. She put a hand on his bared 
muscular ami and began to speak in Spanish. Her voice 
was low, swift, full of deep emotion, sweet as the sound of a 
bell. It thrilled Gale, though he understood scarcely a 
word she said. He did not need translation to know that 
here spoke the longing of a woman for life, love, home, 
the heritage of a woman’s heart. 

Gale doubted his own divining impression. It was that 
the Yaqui understood this woman’s longing. In Gale’s 
sight the Indian’s stoicism, his inscrutability, the lavalike 
hardness of his face, although they did not change, seemed 
to give forth light, gentleness, loyalty. For an instant 
Gale seemed to have a vision; but it did not last, and he 
failed to hold some beautiful illusive thing, 

266 


MOUNTAIN SHEEP 

“SiF* rolled out the Indian’s reply, full of power and 
depth. 

Mercedes drew a long breath, and her hand sought 
Thome's. 

“He says yes,” she whispered. “He answers he’ll 
save us; he’ll take us all back—he knows!” 

The Indian turned away to his tasks, and the silence that 
held the little group was finally broken by Ladd. 

“Shore I said so. Now all we’ve got to do is use sense. 
Friends, I’m the commissary department of this out¬ 
fit, an’ what I say goes. You all won’t eat except when 
I tell you. Mebbe it ’ll not be so hard to keep our health. 
Starved beggars don’t get sick. But there's the heat 
cornin’, an' we can all go loco, you know. To pass the 
time! Lord, that’s our problem. Now if you all only 
had a hankerin’ for checkers. Shore I’ll make a board an’ 
make you play. Thome, you’re the luckiest. You’ve 
got your girl, an’ this can be a honeymoon. Now with a 
few tools an’ little material see what a grand house you 
can build for your wife. Dick, you’re lucky, too. You 
like to hunt, an’ up there you’ll find the finest bighorn 
huntin’ in the West. Take Yaqui and the .405. We 
need the meat, but while you’re gettin’ it have your sport. 
The same chance will never come again. I wish we all 
was able to go. But crippled men can’t climb the lava. 
Shore you’ll see some country from the peaks. There’s 
no wilder place on earth, except the poles. An’ when 
you’re older, you an’ Nell, with a couple of fine boys, 
think what it ’ll be to tell them about bein’ lost in the lava, 
an’ about huntin’ sheep with a Yaqui. Shore I’ve hit it. 
You can take yours out in huntin’ an’ thinkin’. Now if I 
had a girl like Nell I’d never go crazy. That’s your game, 
Dick. Hunt, an’ think of Nell, an’ how you’ll tell those 
fine boys about it all, an’ about the old cowman you 
knowed, Laddy, who’ll by then be long past the divide. 
Rustle now, son. Get some enthusiasm. For shore 
you’ll need it for yourself an’ us.” 


DESERT GOLD 

Gale climbed the lava slope, away round to the right of 
the a.Toyo, along an old trail that Yaqui said the Papagos 
had made before his own people hunted there. Part way 
it. led through spiked, crested, upheaved lava that would 
have been almost impassable even without its silver ccat- 
ing of cnoya cactus. There were benches and ledges and 
ridges bare and glistening in the sun. From the crests of 
these Yaqui’s searching falcon gaze roved near and far 
for signs oi sheep, and Gale used his glass on the reaches of 
lava that slanted steeply upward to the corrugated peaks, 
and down over endless heave and roll and red-waved slopes. 
The heat smoked up from the lava, and this, v/ith the red 
color and the shiny choyas , gave the impression of a world 
of smoldering fire. 

Farther along the slope Yaqui halted and crawled be¬ 
hind projections to a point commanding a view over an 
extraordinary section of country. The peaks were off to 
the left. In the foreground were gullies, ridges, caiions 
arroyos, ail glistening with choyas and some other and 
more numerous white bushes, and here and there towered 

cnw»« ra/'fiic mUL, —I * 



a green cactus. This region was only a splintered and 
more devastated part of the volcanic slope, but it was 
miles in extent. Yaqui peeped over the top of a blunt 
WT °i f h Va and searched tbe sharp-billowed wilderness. 


MOUNTAIN SHEEP 

waved in the wind. That done, the Indian bade Gale 
watch. 

Once again he leveled the glass at the sheep. All 
five now were motionless, standing like statues, heads 
pointed across the gully. They were more than a mile 
distant. When Gale looked without his glass they 
merged into the roughness of the lava. He was intensely 
interested. Did the sheep see the red scarf? It seemed 
incredible, but nothing else could account for that statu¬ 
esque alertness. The sheep held this rigid position for 
perhaps fifteen minutes. Then the leading ram started 
to approach. The others followed. He took a few steps, 
then halted. Always he held his head up, nose pointed. 

“By George, they’re coming!” exclaimed Gale. “They 
see that flag. They’re hunting us. They’re curious. If 
this doesn’t beat me!” 

Evidently the Indian understood, for he grunted. 

Gale found difficulty in curbing his impatience. The 
approach of the sheep was slow. The advances of the 
leader and the intervals of watching had a singular reg¬ 
ularity. He worked like a machine. Gale followed him 
down the opposite wall, around holes, across gullies, over 
ridges. Then Gale shifted the glass back to find the 
others. They were coming also, with exactly the same 
pace and pause of their leader. What steppers they were \ 
How sure-footed! What leaps they made! It was 
thrilling tp watch them. Gale forgot he had a rifle. The 
Yaqui pressed a heavy hand down upon his shoulder. 
He was to keep well hidden and to be quiet. Gale sud¬ 
denly conceived the idea that the sheep might come clear 
across to investigate the puzzling red thing fluttering in 
the breeze. Strange, indeed, would that be for the wildest 
creatures in the world. 

The big ram led on with the same regular persistence, 
and in half an hour’s time he was in the bottom of the 
great gulf, and soon he was facing up the slope. Gale 
knew then that the alluring scarf had fascinated him. 

269 


DESERT GOLD 


it wa» no longer necessary now for Gale to use his glass. 
There was a short period when an intervening crest of 
lava hid the sheep from view. After that the two rams 
and their smaller followers were plainly m sight for per* 
haps a quarter of an hour. Then they disappeared be¬ 
hind another ridge. Gale kept watching, sure they would 
come out farther on. A tense period of waiting passed® 
then a sudden electrifying pressure of Yaqui’s hand made 
Gale tremble with excitement. 

Very cautiously he shifted his position. There, not 
fifty feet distant upon a high mound of lava, stood the 
leader of the sheep. His size astounded Gale. He seemed 
ail horns. But only for a moment did the impression 
of horns overbalancing body remain with Gale. The 
sheep was graceful, sinewy, slender, powerfully built, 
and in poise magnificent. As Gale watched, spellbound, 
the second ram leaped lightly upon the mound, and pres¬ 
ently the three others did likewise. 

Then, indeed, Gale feasted his eyes with a spectacle for 
a hunter. It came to him suddenly that there had been 
something he expected to see in this Rocky Mountain 
bighorn, and it was lacking. They were beautiful, as 
wonderful as even Ladd's encomiums had led him to 
suppose. He thought perhaps it was the contrast these 
soft, sleek, short-furred, graceful animals afforded to what 
ne imagined the barren, terrible lava mountains might 
develop. 

The splendid leader stepped closer, his round, protrud¬ 
ing amber eyes, which Gale could now plainly see, intent 
upon that fatal red flag. Like automatons the other four 
crowded into his tracks, A few little slow steps, then the 


At this instant Gale's absorbed attention was directed 

Arl? qm i * 1 ° i tb8 rifle> and 80 to the Purpose of the climb. 

little cold shock affronted Gale's vivid pleasure,. With it 
davmed a realization of what he had imagined was lacking 
m t ^ iese amma " s They did not look wild! The so-called 


MOUNTAIN SHEEP 


wildest of wM creatures appeared tamer than sheep he 
had followed on a farm. It would be little less than mur¬ 
der to kill them. Gale regretted the need of slaughter. 
Nevertheless, he could not resist the desire to show him¬ 
self and see how tame they really were. 

He reached for the .405, and as he threw a shell into the 
chamber the slight metallic click made the sheep jump. 
Then Gale rose quickly to his feet. 

The noble ram and his band simply stared at Gale. 
They had never seen a man. They showed not the slight¬ 
est indication of instinctive fear. Curiosity, surprise, 
even friendliness, seemed to mark their attitude of atten¬ 
tion. Gale imagined that they were going to step still 
closer. He did not choose to wait to see if this were true. 
Certainly it already took a grim' resolution to raise the 
heavy 0405. 

His shot killed the big leader. The others bounded 
away with remarkable nimbleness. Gale used up the 
remaining four shells to drop the second ram, and by the 
time he had reloaded the others were out of range. 

The Yaqufs method of hunting was sure and deadly 
and saving of energy, but Gale never would try it again. 
He chose to stalk the game. This entailed a great ex¬ 
penditure of strength, the eyes and the lungs of a moun¬ 
taineer, and, as Gale put it to Ladd, the need of seven- 
league boots. After being hunted a few times and shot 
at, the sheep became exceedingly difficult to approach. 
Gale learned to know that their fame as the keenest-eyed 
of all animals was well founded. If he worked directly 
toward a flock, crawling over the sharp lava, always a 
sentinel ram espied him before he got within range. The 
only method of attack that he found successful was to 
locate sheep with his glass, work round to windward of 
them, and then, getting behind a ridge or buttress, crawl 
like a lizard to a vantage point. He failed often. The 
stalk called forth all that was in him of endurance, cunning, 

271 


DESERT GOLD 

speed. As the days grew hotter he hunted in the eariy 
morning hours and a while before the sun went down. 
More than one night he lay cut on the lava, with the great 
stars close overhead and the immense void all beneath: 
him. This pursuit he learned to love. Upon those 
scarred and blasted slopes the wild spirit that was in him 
had free rein And like a shadow the faithful Yaqui 
toed ever to keep at his heels. 

One morning the rising sun greeted him as he surmount- 
ed toe higher cone of the volcano. He saw the vastness 
ot the east aglow with a glazed rosy whiteness, like the 
changing hue of an ember. At this height there was a 
sweeping wind, still cool. The western slopes of lava 
lay dars, and all that world of sand and gulf and moun ¬ 
tain barrier beyond was shrouded in the mystic cloud ol 
distance. Gale had assimilated much of the loneliness 
and the sense of ownership and toe love of lofty heights 
toat might _weE belong to the great condor of the peak 
Like this wide-winged bird, he had an unparalleled range 
of vision. The very comers whence came the winds 
seemed pierced by Gale's eyes, 

Yaqui spied a flock of sheep far under the curved broken 
crater * Then began the stalk. Gale 
nad taught toe Yaqiu something—that speed might win as 
well as patient cunning. Keeping out of sight. Gale ran 
over the spike-crusted lava, leaving the Indian far behind, 
us feet were magnets, attracting supporting holds, and 
he passed over them too fast to fall. The wind toe keen 
mr oHhe heights, toe red lava, toe boundleS^tSg 

Thcn lS sl f VS E ° met “" g to d0 ™ th Us Oldness 
ion, hiding, slipping, creeping, crawling, he closed in 

SD U ^d < fh an 7 v llt ^ the long rifls ^ ew like stone in his 
toff’s^ the r hl ? pmg " s P a «g" ripped the silence, and 

atound ^ e -F C - lf> i b ‘n mCd deep ia ths crater - and rolled 
escapa' * “ hoHow raocker >’ at toe hopelessness of 

Gale s exultant yell was given as much to free himself 
272 


MOUNTAIN SHEEP 

a£ soma bursting Joy of action as it was to call the slower 
/aqui Then he liked the strange echoes. It was a 
maddening whirl of sound that bored deeper and deeoer 
along the whorled and cavemed walls of the crater. * It 
was as if these aged walls resented the violating of their 
silent sanctity. Gale felt himself a man, a thing alive, 
something superior to all this savage, dead, upflung world 
of iron, a master even of ail this grandeur and suhlimitv 
because he had a soul. 

He waited beside his quarry, and breathed deep, and 
swept the long slopes with searching eyes of habit. 

When Yaqui came up they set about the hardest task 
all, to pack the best of that heavy sheep down miles 
of steep, ragged, choya -covered lava. But even in this 
Gale rejoiced. The heat was nothing, the millions of little 
pits which could hold and twist a foot were nothing; the 
blade-edged crusts and the deep fissures and the choked 
canons and the tangled, dwarfed mesquites, all these were 
as ^nothing but obstacles to be cheerfully overcome. 
Only the choya hindered Dick Gale. 

When his heavy burden pulled him out of sure-footed¬ 
ness, and he plunged into a choya t cr when the strange, 
deceitful, uncanny, almost invisible frosty thorns caught 
and pierced him, then there was call for all of fortitude and 
endurance. For this cactus had a malignant power of 
torture. Its pain was a stinging, blinding, burning, 
sickening poison in the blood. If thorns pierced his 
legs he felt the pain all over his body; if his hands rose 
from a fail full of the barbed joints, he was helpless and 
quivering till Yaqui tore them out. 

But this one peril, dreaded more than dizzy height of 
precipice or sunblindness on the glistening peak, did not 
daunt Gale. His teacher was the Yaqui, and always 
before him was an example that made him despair of a 
wnite man's equality. Color, race, blood, breeding— 
what were these in the wilderness? Verily, Dick Gale had 
come to learn the use of his hands, 

2 73 


DESERT GOLD 


So in a descent of hours he toiled down the lava slope, 
to stalk into the arroyo like a burdened giant, wringing 
wet, panting, clear-eyed and dark-faced, his ragged clothes 
and boots white with choya thorns. 

The gaunt Ladd rose from his shaded seat, and removed 
his pipe from smiling lips, and turned to nod at Jim, and 
then looked back again. i 

The torrid summer heat came imperceptibly, or it could 
never have been borne by white men. It changed the 
lives of the fugitives, making them partly nocturnal in 
habit. The nights had the balmly coolness of spring, 
and would have been delightful for sleep, but that would 
have made the blazing days unendurable. 

The sun rose in a vast white flame. With it came the 
blasting, withering wind from the gulf. A red haze, like 
that of earlier sunsets, seemed to come sweeping on the 
wind, and it roared up the arroyo, and went bellowing 
into the crater, and rushed on in fury to lash the peaks. 

During these hot, windy hours the desert-bound party 
slept in deep recesses in the lava; and if necessity brought 
them forth they could not remain out long. The sand 
burned through boots, and a touch of bare hand on lava, 
raised a blister. 

A short while before sundown the Yaqui went forth to 
build a campfire, and soon the others came out, heat- 
dazed, half blinded, with parching throats to allay and 
hunger that was never satisfied. A little action and a 
cooling of the air revived them, and when night set in 
they were comfortable round the campfire. 

As Ladd had said, one of their greatest problems was 
the passing of time. The nights were interminably long, 
but they had to be passed in w r ork or play or dream—any¬ 
thing except sleep. That was Ladd’s most inflexible 
command. He gave no reason. But not improbably the 
ranger thought that the terrific heat of the day spent in 
slumber lessened a wear and strain, if not a real danger 
of madness. 


274 


MOUNTAIN SHEEP 

Accordingly, at first the occupations of this little group 
were many and various. They worked if they had some¬ 
thing to do, or could invent a pretext. They told and re¬ 
told stories until all were wearisome. They sang songs. 
Mercedes taught Spanish. They played every game they 
knew. They invented others that were so trivial children 
would scarcely have been interested, and these they played 
seriously. In a word, with intelligence and passion, with 
all that was civilized and human, they fought the ever- 
mlringing loneliness, the savage solitude of their en¬ 
vironment. 

But they had only finite minds. It was not in reason 
to expect a complete victory against this mighty Nature, 
this bounding horizon of death and desolation and decay. 
Gradually they fell back upon fewer and fewer occupations, 
until the time came when the silence was hard to break. 

Gale believed himself the keenest of the party, the one 
who thought most, and he watched the effect of the desert 
upon his companions. He imagined that he saw Ladd 
grow old sitting round the campfire. Certain it was that 
the ranger’s gray hair had turned white. What had been 
at times hard and cold and grim about him had strangely 
vanished in sweet temper and a vacant-mindedness that 
held him longer as the days passed. For hours, it seemed, 
Ladd would bend over his checkerboard and never rrmW> 
a move. It mattered not now whether or not he had a 
partner. He was always glad of being spoken to, as if he 
were called back from some vague region of mind. Jim 
Lash, the calmest, coolest, most nonchalant, best-humored 
Westerner Gale had ever met, had by slow degrees lost 
that cheerful character which would have been of such 
infinite good to his companions, and always he sat brood¬ 
ing, silently brooding. Jim had no ties, few memories, 
and the desert was claiming him. 

Thome and Mercedes, however, were living, wonderful 
proof that spirit, mind, and heart were free—free to soar 
in scorn of the colossal barrenness and silence and space 
275 


DESERT GOLD 


of that terrible hedging prison of lava. They were young; 
they loved; they were together; and the oasis was almost 
a paradise. Gale believed he helped himself by watching 
them. Imagination had never pictured real happiness to 
him. Thome and Mercedes had forgotten the outside 
world. If they had been existing on the burned-out 
desolate moon they could hardly have been in a harsher, 
grimmer, lonelier spot than this red-walled arroyo. But 
it might have been a statelier Eden than that of the primi¬ 
tive day. 

Mercedes grew thinner, until she was a slender shadow 
of her former self. She became hard, brown as the 
rangers, lithe and quick as a panther. She seemed to 
live on water and the sir—perhaps, indeed, on love. For 
of the scant fare, the best of which was continually urged 
upon her, she partook but little. She reminded Gale of a 
wild brown creature, free as the wind on the lava slopes, 
x et, despite the great change, her beauty remained un¬ 
diminished. Her eyes, seeming so much larger now in her 
small face, were great black, starry gulfs. She was the 
life of that camp. Her smiles, her rapid speech, her low 
laughter, her quick movements, her playful moods with 
the rangers, the dark and passionate glance, which rested 
so often on her lover, the whispers in the dusk as hand in 
hand they paced, the campfire beat—these helped Gale to 
retain his loosening hold on reality, to resist the lure of a 
strange beckoning life where a man stood free in the 
golden open, where emotion was not, nor trouble, nor 
sickness, nor anything but the savage’s rest and sleep and 
action and dream. 


Although the Yaqui was as his shadow, Gale reached a 
point when he seemed to wander alone at twilight, in the 
night, at dawn. Far down the arroyo, in the deepening 
red twilight, when the heat rolled away on slow-dying 
wind,. Blanco Sol raised his splendid head and whistled 
for his master. Gale reproached himself for neglect of 
the noble horse. Blanco Sol was always the same. He 


MOUNTAIN SHEEP 

loved four things—his master, a long drink of cool water, 
to graze at will, and to run. Time and place, Gale thought, 
meant little to Sol if he could have those four things. 
Gale put his arm over the great arched neck and laid his 
cheek against the long white mane, and then even as he 
stood there, forgot the horse. What was that dull, red^ 
tinged, horizon-wide mantle creeping up the slope? 
Through it the copper sun glowed, paled, died. Was it 
only twilight? Was it gloom? If he thought about it 
he had a feeling that it was the herald of night, and the 
night must be a vigil, and that made him tremble. 

At night he had formed a habit of climbing up the lava 
slope as far as the smooth trail extended, and there on a 
promontory he paced to and fro, and watched the stars, 
and sat stone-still for hours looking down at the vast 
void with its moving, changing shadows. From that 
promontory he gazed up at a velvet-blue sky, deep and 
dark, bright with millions of cold, distant, blinking stars, 
and he grasped a little of the meaning of infinitude. He 
gazed down into the shadows, which, black as they were 
and impenetrable, yet gave a conception of immeasurable 
space. 

Then the silence \ He was dumb, he was awed, he bowed 
his head, he trembled, he marveled at the desert silence. 
It was the one thing always present. Even when the wind 
roared there seemed to be silence. But at night, in this 
lava world of ashes and canker, he waited for this terrible 
strangeness of nature to come to him with the secret. 
He seemed at once a little child and a strong man, and 
something very old. What tortured him was the in¬ 
comprehensibility that the vaster the space the greater 
the silence! At one moment Gale felt there was only death 
here, and that was the secret; at another he heard the slow 
beat of a mighty heart. 

He came at length to realize that the desert was a 
teacher. He did not realize all that he had learned, but he 
was a different man. And when he decided upon that, he 


DESERT GOLD 


was not thinking of the slow, sure call to the primal in¬ 
stincts of man; he was thinking that the desert, as much 
as he had experienced and no more, would absolutely 
overturn the whole scale of a man’s values, break old 
habits, form new ones, remake him. More of desert ex¬ 
perience, Gale believed, would be too much for intellect. 
The desert did not breed civilized man, and that made 
Gale ponder over a strange thought: after all, was the 
civilized man inferior to the savage? 

Yaqui was the answer to that. When Gale acknowl 
edged this he always remembered his present strange 
manner of thought. The past, the old order of mind, 
seemed as remote as this desert world was from the haunts 
of civilized men. A man must know a savage as Gale 
knew Yaqui before ne could speak authoritatively, and 
then something stilled his tongue. In the first stage of 
Gale’s observation of Yaqui he had marked tenaciousness 
of life, stoicism, endurance, strength. These were the 
attributes of the desert. But what of that second stage 
wherein the Indian had loomed up a colossal figure of 
strange honor, loyalty, love? Gale doubted his con¬ 
victions and scorned himself for doubting. 

There in the gloom cat the silent, impassive, inscrutable 
\aqui. His dark face, his dark eyes were plain in the 
light of the stars. Always he was near Gale, unobtrusive, 
shadowy, but there. Why? Gale absolutely could not 
doubt that the Indian had heart as well as mind. Yaqui 
had from the very first stood between Gale and accident, 
toil, peril. It was his own choosing. Gale could not 
change him or thwart him. He understood the Indian’s 
idea of obligation and sacred duty. But there was more, 
and that baffled Gale. In the night hours, alone on the 
slope, Gale felt in Yaqui, as he felt the mighty throb of 
that desert pulse, a something that drew him irresistibly 
to the Indian. Sometimes he looked around to find the 
Indian, to dispel these strange, pressing thoughts of un¬ 
reality, and it was never in vain. 

278 


MOUNTAIN SHEEP 

Thus the nights passed, endlessly long, with Gale 
fighting for his old order of thought, fighting the fascina¬ 
tion of that infinite sky, ana the gloomy insulating whirl 
of the wide shadows, fighting for belief, hope, prayer, 
fighting against that terrible ever-recurring idea of being 
lost, lost, lost in the desert, fighting harder than any 
other thing the insidious, penetrating, tranquil, unfeeling 
self that was coming between him and his memory. 

He was losing the battle, losing his hold on tangible 
things, losing his power to stand up under this ponderous, 
merciless weight of desert space and silence. 

He acknowledged it in a kind of despair, and the shadows 
of the night seemed whirling fiends. Lost! Lost! Lost! 
What are you waiting for? Rain? . . . Lost! Lost! 
Lost in the desert! So the shadows seemed to scream in 
voiceless mockery. 

At the moment he was alone on the promontory. The 
night was far spent. A ghastly moon haunted the black 
volcanic spurs. The winds blew silently. Was he alone? 
No, he did not seem to be alone. The Yaqui was there. 
Suddenly a strange, cold sensation crept over Gale. It 
was new. He felt a presence. Turning, he expected to 
see the Indian, but instead, a slight shadow, pale, almost 
white, stood there, not close nor yet distant. It seemed 
to brighten. Then he saw a woman who resembled a 
girl he had seemed to know long ago. She was white¬ 
faced, golden-haired, and her lips were sweet, and her 
eyes were turning black. Nell! He had forgotten her. 
Over him flooded a torrent of memory. There was tragic 
woe in this sweet face. Nell was holding out her arms— 
she was crying aloud to him across the sand and the cactus 
and the lava. She was in trouble, and he had been for¬ 
getting. 

That night he climbed the lava to the topmost cone, and 
never slipped on a ragged crust nor touched a choya thorn. 
A voice had called to him. He saw Nell’s eyes in the 
stars, in the velvet blue of sky, in the blackness of the en* 

*9 • 279 


DESERT GOLD 

gulfing shadows. She was with him, a slender shape, a 
spirit, keeping step with him, and memory was strong, 
sweet, beating, beautiful. Far down in the west, faintly 
golden with light of the sinking moon, he saw a cloud that 
resembled her face. A cloud on the desert horizon! He 
gazed and gazed. Was that a spirit face like the one by 
his side? No—he did not dream. 


In the hot, sultry morning Yaqui appeared at camp, 
after long hours of absence, and he pointed with a long, 
dark arm toward the west. A bank of clouds was rising 
above the mountain barrier. 

“Rain!” he cried; and his sonorous voice rolled down 
the arroyo. 

Those who heard him were as shipwrecked mariners at 
sight of a distant sail. 

Dick Gale, silent, grateful to the depths of his soul, 
stood with arm over Blanco Sol and watched the trans¬ 
forming west, where clouds of wondrous size and hue 
piled over one another, rushing, darkening, spreading, 
sweeping upward toward that wdiite and glowing sun. 

When they reached the zenith and swept round to 
blot out the blazing orb, the earth took on a dark, lowering 
aspect. The red of sand and lava changed to steely gray. 
Vast shadows, like ripples on water, sheeted in from the 
gulf with a low, strange moan. Yet the silence was like 
death.. The desert was awaiting a strange and hated 
visitation storm! If all the endless torrid days, the end¬ 
less mystic nights had seemed unreal to Gale, what, then, 
seemed this stupendous spectacle? 

“ Oh! I felt a drop of rain on my face!” cried Mercedes; 
and, whispering the name of a saint, she kissed her hus¬ 
band. 

The white-haired Ladd, gaunt, old, bent, looked up at 
the maelstrom of clouds, and he said, softly. “Shore well 

280 


MOUNTAIN SHEEP 


get in the hosses, an’ pack light, an’ hit the trail, an* make 
night marches!” 

Then up out of the gulf of the west swept a bellowing 
wind and a black pall and terrible flashes of lightning and 
thunder like the end of the world—fury, blackness, chaos, 
the desert storm. 


XVH 


THE WHISTLE OF A HORSE 

AT the ranch-house at Forlorn River Belding stood 
r> alone in his darkened room. It was quiet there and 
quiet outside; the sickening midsummer heat, like a hot 
heavy blanket, lay upon the house. 

He took up the gun belt from his table and with slow 
hands buckled it around his waist He seemed to feel 
something familiar and comfortable and inspiring in the 
weight of the big gun against his hip. He faced the door 
as if to go out, but hesitated, and then began a slow, 
plodding walk up and down the length of the room! 
Presently he halted at the table, and with reluctant hands 
he unbuckled the gun belt and laid it down. 

The action did not have an air of finality, and Belding 
knew it. He had seen border life in Texas in the early 
days; he had been a sheriff when the law in the West de¬ 
pended on a quickness of wrist, he had seen many a man 
lay down bis gun for good and all. His own action was 
not final. Of late he had done the same thing many times 
and this last time it seemed a little harder to do,’a little 
more indicative of vacillation. There were reasons why 
Belding’s gun held for him a gloomy fascination. 

The Chases, those grasping and conscienceless agents 
of a new force in the development of the West, were bent 
upon Belding’s ruin, and, so far as his fortunes at Forlorn 
River were concerned, had almost accomplished it. One 
by one he lost points for which he contended with them. 
He carried into the Tucson courts the matter of the staked 
claims, and mining claims, and water claims, and he lost 


fHE WHISTLE OF A HORSE 


all. Following that he lost his government position as 
inspector of immigration; and this fact, because of what 
he considered its injustice, had been a hard blow. He had 
been made to suffer a humiliation equally as great. It 
came about that he actually had to pay the Chases for 
water to irrigate his alfalfa fields. The never-failing 
spring upon his land answered for the needs of household 
and horses, but no more. 

These matters were unfortunate for Belding, but not 
by any means wholly accountable for his worry and un¬ 
happiness and brooding hate. He believed Dick Gale 
and the rest of the party taken into the desert by the Yaqui 
had been killed or lost. Two months before a string of 
Mexican horses, riderless, saddled, starved for grass and 
wild for water, had come in to Forlorn River. They were 
a part of the horses belonging to Rojas and his band. 
Their arrival complicated the mystery and strengthened 
convictions of the loss of both pursuers and pursued. 
Belding was wont to say that he had worried himself gray 
over the fate of his rangers. 

Belding’s unhappiness could hardly be laid to material 
loss. He had been rich and was now poor, but change of 
fortune such as that could not have made him unhappy. 
Something more somber and mysterious and sad than the 
loss of Dick Gale and their friends had come into the lives 
of his wife and Nell. He dated the time of this change 
back to a certain day when Mrs. Belding recognized in 
the elder Chase an old schoolmate and a rejected suitor. 
It took time for slow-thinking Belding to discover anything 
wrong in his household, especially as the fact of the Gales 
lingering there made Mrs. Belding and Nell, for the most, 
part, hide their real and deeper feelings. Gradually, 
however, Belding had forced on him the fact of some secret 
cause for grief other than Gale’s loss. He was sure of it 
when his wife signified her desire to make a visit to her 
old home back in Peoria. She did not give many reasons, 
but she did show him a letter that had found its way from 
283 


DESERT GOLD 

old friends. This letter contained news that may or may 
not have been authentic; but it was enough, Belding 
thought, to interest his wife. An old prospector had re¬ 
turned to Peoria, and he had told relatives of meeting 
Robert Burton at the Sonoyta Oasis fifteen years before, 
and that Burton had gone into the desert never to return. 
To Belding this was no surprise, for he had heard that 
before his marriage. There appeared to have been nc 
doubts as to the death of his wife’s first husband. The 
singular thing was that both Ned’s father and grandfather 
had been lost somewhere in the Sonora Desert. 

Belding did not oppose his wife’s desire to visit her old 
home. He tnought it would be a wholesome trip for her, 
and did all in his power to persuade Nell to accompany her. 
But Nell would not go. 

It was after Mrs. Belding’s departure that Belding 
discovered in Nell a condition of mind that amazed and 
distressed him. She had suddenly become strangely 
wretched, so that she could not conceal it from even the 
G-ales, who, of all people, Belding imagined, were the ones 
to make Nell proud. She would tell him nothing. But 
after a while, when he had thought it out, he dated this 
further and. more deplorable change in Nell back to a day 
on which he had met Nell with Radford Chase. This 
indefatigable wooer had not in the least abandoned his 
suit. Something about the fellow made Belding grind 
his teeth. Bur Nell grew not only solicitously, but now 
strangely, entreatingiy earnest in her importunities to 
Belding not to insult or lay a hand on Chase. This had 
bound Belding so far; it had made him think and watch. 
He had never been a man to interfere with his women 
folk. They could do as they liked, and usually that 
pleased him. But a slow surprise gathered and grew upon 
him when he saw that Nell, apparently, was accepting 
young Chase’s attentions. At least, she no longer hid 
from him. Belding could not account for this, because 
•be was sure Nell cordially despised the fellow. And 
2<S A 


THE WHISTLE OF A HORSE 

toward the end he divined, if he did not actually know, 
that these Chases possessed some strange power over Nell, 
and were using it. That stirred a hate in Belding—a hate he 
had felt at the very first and had manfully striven against, 
and which now gave him over to dark brooding thoughts. 

Midsummer passed, and the storms came late. But 
when they arrived they made up for tardiness. Belding 
did not remember so terrible a storm of wind and rain as 
that which broke the summer’s drought. 

In a few days, it seemed, Altar Valley was a bright and 
green expanse, where dust clouds did not rise. Forlorn 
River ran, a slow, heavy, turgid torrent. Belding never 
saw the river in flood that it did not give him joy; yet 
now, desert man as he was, he suffered a regret when he 
thought of the great Chase reservoir full and overflowing. 
The dull thunder of the spillway was not pleasant. It was 
the first time in his life that the sound of falling water 
jarred upon him. 

Belding noticed workmen once more engaged in the 
fields bounding his land. The Chases had extended a 
main irrigation ditch down to Belding’s farm, skipped the 
width of his ground, then had gone on down through Altar 
Valley. They had exerted every influence to obtain right 
to connect these ditches by digging through his land, but 
Belding had remained obdurate. He refused *x> have any 
dealings with them. It was therefore with some curiosity 
and suspicion that he saw a gang of Mexicans once more 
at work upon these ditches. 

At daylight next morning a tremendous blast almost 
threw Belding out of his bed. It cracked the adobe walls 
of his house and broke windows and sent pans and crock¬ 
ery to the floor with a crash. Belding’s idea was that the 
store of dynamite kept by the Chases for blasting had 
blown up. Hurriedly getting into his clothes, he went 
to Nell’s room to reassure her; and, telling her to have a 
thought for their guests, he went out to see what bad 
happened. 


285 


DESERT GOLD 


The villagers were pretty badly frightened. Many.of 
the poorly constructed adobe huts had crumbled almost 
into dust. A great yellow cloud, like smoke, hung over 
the river. This appeared to be at the upper end of Beld- 
ing s plot, and close to the river. When he reached his 
fence the smoke and dust were so thick he could scarcely 
breathe, and for a little while he was unable to see what 
had happened. Presently he made out a huge hole in the 
sand just about where the irrigation ditch had stopped 
near his line. For some reason or other, not clear to 
Belding, the Mexicans had set off an extraordinarily heavv 
blast at that point. y 

Belding pondered. He did not now for a moment con¬ 
sider an accidental discharge of dynamite. But why had 
this blast been set off? The loose sandy soil had yielded 
readily to shovel; there were no rocks; as far as construc¬ 
tion of a ditch was concerned such a blast would have done 
more harm than good. 


Slowly, with reluctant feet, Belding walked toward a 
f een hollow, where in a cluster of widows lay the never- 
faihng spring that his horses loved so wed, and, indeed 
which he loved no less. He was actually afraid to part 
the drooping widows to enter the little cool, shady path 
that led to the spring. Then, suddenly seized by suspense 
lie ran the rest of the way. 

He was just in time to see the lastof the water. It seemed 
to sink as in quicksand. The shape of theholehad changed 
rhe tremendous force of the blast in the adjoining'field 
had obstructed or diverted the underground stream of water. * 
Beiding s never-failing spring had been ruined. What 
had made this little plot of ground green and sweet and 
fragrant was now no more. Belding’s first feeling was for 
the pity of it. The P a!e Ajo lilies would bloom no more 
under those widows. The willows themselves would soon 
wither and die. He thought how many times in the 
uddle of hot summer nights he had come down to the 
inng to drink. Never again! 

286* 


THE WHISTLE OF A HORS’E 


Suddenly he thought of Blanco Diablo. How the great 
white thoroughbred had loved this spring! Belding 
"straightened up and looked with tear-blurred eyes out over 
the waste of desert to the west. Never a day passed that 
he had not thought of the splendid horse; but this moment, 
with its significant memory, was doubly keen, and there 
came a dull pang in his breast. 

“ Diablo will never drink here again!” muttered Belding. 

The loss of Blanco Diablo, though admitted and 
mourned by Belding, had never seemed quite real until 
this moment. 

The pall of dust drifting over him, the din of the falling 
water up at the dam, diverted Belding’s mind to the Chases. 
All at once he was in the harsh grip of a cold certainty. 
The blast had been set off intentionally to ruin his spring. 
What a hellish trick! No Westerner, no Indian or Mexi¬ 
can, no desert man could have been guilty of such a crime. 
To ruin a beautiful, clear, cool, never-failing stream of 
water in the desert! 

It was then that Belding’s worry and indecision and 
brooding were as if they had never existed. As he strode 
swiftly back to the house, his head, which had long been 
bent thoughtfully and sadly, was held erect. He went 
directly to his room, and with an air that was now final 
he buckled on his gun belt. He looked the gun over and 
tried the action. He squared himself and walked a little 
more erect. Some long-lost individuality bad returned 
to Belding. 

* “Let’s see,” he was saying. “I can get Carter to send 
the horses I’ve got left back to Waco to my brother. 
I’ll make Nell take what money there is and go hunt up 
her mother. The Gales are ready to go—to-day, if I 
say the word. Nell can travel with them part way East. 
That’s your game, Tom Belding, don’t mistake me.” 

As he went out he encountered Mr. Gale coming up the 
walk. The long sojourn at Forlorn River, despite the 
fact that it had been laden with a suspense which was 
287 


DESERT GOLD 

pdually changing to a sad certainty, had been of great 
benefit to Dick s father. The dry air, the heat, and the 
quiet had made him, if not entirely a well man, certainly 
stronger than he had been in many years. 

„ “ Bel ^ng, what was that terrible roar?” asked Mr 
Dale. We were badly frightened until Miss Nell came 
t° us. We feared it was an earthquake. ’ ’ 

Well, 111 tell you, Mr, Gale, we've had some quakes 
here but none of them could hold a candle to this jar we 

JllSt HAG. 

Belding explained what had caused the explosion, 
and why it had been set off so close to his property. 

ft s an outrage sir, an unspeakable outrage,” declared 
M. Cale, hotly “Such a thing would not be tolerated 
m the East. Mr. Belding, I’m amazed at your attitude 
in the face of all this trickery.” attitude 

“ You see—there was mother and Nell,” began Boldin? 
as u apologizing. He dropped his head a little and m a d e 
arks m the sand with the toe of his boot. “Mr Gale 
I ve been sort of half hitched, as Laddy used to say! Vm 

SndTVm 76 a . littIe m ° re eIbow Toom r o^d this 
Then‘nj 1 |Th ,T d ^ dI EaSt to her “other. 

S 6re ’ Mr ‘ GaIe ’ would you “hid having 
yth you part way when you go home ?” ; 

We d ail be delighted to have her go all the wav and 
®ake us a visit,” replied Mr, Gale. 7 “ 

TIla t s fine. And you’ll be going soon? Don’t take 
that as if I wanted to—” Belding paused for the truth 
was that he did want to hurry them off. , | 

.said V M, W °r^ ha ^r been g ° ne before this ’ bu t for you,” 
p d j • Gale - Tong ago we gave up hope of—of 
Richard ever returning. And I believe, now we’re sure 
he was lost, that we’d do well to go home at once. Yw 
wished us to remain till the heat was broken—till the rains 
came to make traveling easier for us. Now I see no ne-d 

ray heST Xu My X ^ haS greatly benefited 
-n/ hea rii. I shad never forget your hospitality. This 

288 


THE WHISTLE OF A HORSE 

Western trip would have made me a new man if—only—• 
Richard—” 

‘‘Sure. I understand,” said Belding, gruffly. “Let’s 
go in and tell the women to pack up.” 

Nell was busy with the servants preparing breakfast. 
Belding took her into the sitting-room while Mr. Gale 
called his wife and daughter. 

“My girl, I’ve some news for you,” began Belding. 
“Mr. Gale is leaving to-day with his family. I’m going 
to send you with them—part way, anyhow. You’re in¬ 
vited to visit them. I think that’d be great for you— 
help you to forget. But the main thing is—you’re going 
East to join mother.” 

Nell gazed at him, white-faced, without uttering a word. 

“You see, Nell, I’m about done in Forlorn River,” 
went on Belding. “That blast this morning sank my 
spring. There’s no water now. It was the last straw. 
So we’ll shake the dust of Forlorn River. I’ll come on 
a little later—that’s all.” 

“Dad, you’re packing your gun!” exclaimed Nell, 
suddenly pointing with a trembling finger. She ran to 
him, and for the first time in his life Belding put her away 
from him. His movements had lost the old slow gen¬ 
tleness. 

“Why, so I am,” replied Belding, coolly, as his hand 
moved down to the sheath swinging at his hip. “Nell, 
I’m that absent-minded these days!” 

“Dad!” she cried. 

“That ’ll do from you,” he replied, in a voice he had 
never used to her. “Get breakfast now, then pack to 
leave Forlorn River.” 

“Leave Forlorn River!” whispered Nell, with a thin 
white hand stealing up to her breast. How changed the 
girl was! Belding reproached himself for his hardness, but 
did not speak his thought aloud. Nell was fading here, 
just as Mercedes had faded before the coming of Thorne. 

Nell turned away to the west window and looked out 
289 


DESERT GOLD 


across the desert toward the dim blue peaks in the distance. 
Belding watched her; likewise the Gales; and no one spoke. 
There ensued a long silence. Belding felt a lump rise in 
his throat. Nell laid her arm against the window frame, 
but gradually it dropped, and she was leaning with her 
face against the wood. A low sob broke from her. Elsie 
Gale went to her, embraced her, took the drooping head 
on her shoulder. 

“We’ve come to be such friends,” she said. “I believe 
it ’ll be good for you to visit me in the city. Here—all day 
you look out across that awful lonely desert. . . . Come, 
Nell.” 

Heavy steps sounded outside on the flagstones, then the 
door rattled under a strong knock. Belding opened it. 
The Chases, father and son, stood beyond the threshold. 

“Good morning, Belding,” said the elder Chase. “We 
were routed out early by that big blast and came up to 
see what was wrong. All a blunder. The Greaser fore¬ 
man was drunk yesterday, and his ignorant men made a 
mistake. Sorry if the blast bothered you.” 

“Chase, I reckon that’s the first of your blasts I was 
ever glad to hear,” replied Belding, in a way that made 
Chase look blank. 

“So? Well, I’m glad you’re glad,” he went on, evi¬ 
dently puzzled. “I was a little worried—you’ve always 
been so touchy—we never could get together. I hurried 
over, fearing maybe you might think the blast—you see, 
Belding—” 

“I see this, Mr. Ben Chase,” interrupted Belding, in 
curt and ringing voice. “The blast was a mistake, the 
biggest you ever made in your life.” 

“What do you mean?” demanded Chase. 

“You’ll have to excuse me for a while, unless you’re 
dead set on having it out right now. Mr. Gale and his 
family are leaving, and my daughter is going with them. 
I’d rather you’d wait a little.” 

“Nell going away!” exclaimed Radford Chase. He 
290 


THE WHISTLE OF A HORSE 

reminded Belding of an overgrown boy in disappoint¬ 
ment. 

( Yes. But —Miss Burton to you, young man—” 

Mr. Belding, I certainly would prefer a conference 
with you right now,” interposed the elder Chase, cutting 
short Belding’s strange speech. “There are other mat¬ 
ters—important matters to discuss. They’ve got to be 
settled. May we step in, sir?” 

"No, you may not,” replied Belding, bluntly. “I’m 
sure partic' far who I invite into my house. But I’ll 
go with you.” 

Belding stepped out and closed the door. “ Come away 
from the house so the women won’t hear the—the talk.” 

The elder Chase was purple with rage, yet seemed tc 
be controlling it. The younger man looked black, sullen, 
impatient. He appeared not to have a thought of Beld¬ 
ing. He was absolutely blind to the situation, as con¬ 
sidered from Belding’s point of view. Ben Chase found 
his voice about the time Belding halted under the trees 
out of earshot from the house. 

Sir, you ve insulted me—my son. How dare you? 
I want you to understand that you’re—” 

"Chop that kind of talk with me, you--- 

•” interrupted Belding. He had always 
been profane, and now he certainly did not choose his 
language. Chase turned livid, gasped, and seemed about 
to give way to fury. But something about Belding evi¬ 
dently exerted a powerful quieting influence. “If you 
talk sense I’ll listen,” went on Belding. 

Belding was frankly curious. He did not think any 
argument or inducement offered by Chase could change 
his mind on past dealings or his purpose of the present. 
But he believed by listening he might get some light on 
what had long puzzled him. The masterly effort Chase 
put forth to conquer his aroused passions gave Belding 
another idea of the character of this promoter. 

“I want to make a last effort to propitiate you," began 

2QI 






DESERT GOLD 


Chase, in his quick, smooth voice. That was a singular 
change to Belding—the dropping instantly into an easy 
flow of speech. “You’ve had losses here, and naturally 
you’re sore. I don’t blame you. But you can’t see this 
thing from my side of the fence. Business is business. 
In business the best man wins. The law upheld those 
transactions of mine the honesty of which you questioned. 
As to mining and water claims, you lost on this technical 
point—that you had nothing to prove you had held them 
for five years. Five years is the time necessary in law. 
A dozen men might claim the source of Forlorn River, 
but if they had no house or papers to prove their squatters’ 
rights any man could go in and fight them for the water. 

. . . Now I want to run that main ditch along the river, 
through your farm. Can’t we make a deal? I’m ready 
to be liberal—to meet you more than halfway. I’ll give 
you an interest in the company. I think I’ve influence 
enough up at the Capitol to have you reinstated as in¬ 
spector. A little reasonableness on your part will put you 
right again in Forlorn River, with a chance of growing 
rich. There’s a big future here. . . . My interest, Belding, 
has become personal. Radford is in love with your step¬ 
daughter. He wants to marry her. I’ll admit now if 
I had foreseen this situation I wouldn’t have pushed you 
so hard. But we can square the thing. Now let’s get 
together not only in business, but in a family way. If 
my son’s happiness depends upon having this girl, you may 
rest assured I’ll do all I can to get her for him. I’ll 
absolutely make good all your losses. Now what do you 
say?” 

No,” replied Belding. “Your money can’t buy a 
right of way across my ranch. And Nell doesn’t want 
your son. That settles that.” 

“But you could persuade her.” 

“I won’t, that’s all.” 

“ May I ask why?” Chase’s voice was losing its suave 
quality, but it was even swifter than before. 

’ 292 


THE WHISTLE OF A HORSE 

“Sure. I don’t mind your asking,” replied Belding: 
in slow deliberation. “I wouldn’t do such a low-down 
trick. Besides, if I would, I’d want it to be a man I was 
persuading for. I know Greasers—I know a Yaqui I’d 
.rather give Nell to than your son.” 

Radford Chase began to roar in inarticulate rage 
Belding paid no attention to him; indeed, he never glanced 
at the young man. The elder Chase checked a violent 
start. He plucked at the collar of his gray flannel shirt, 
opened it at the neck. 

“My son’s offer of marriage is an honor—more an 
honor, sir, than you perhaps are aware of.” 

Belding made no reply. His steady gaze did not turn 
from the long lane that led down to the river. He waited 
coldly, sure of himself. 

“Mrs. Belding’s daughter has no right to the name of 
Burton,” snapped Chase. “Did you know tha c?” 

“I did not,” replied Belding, quietly. 

“Well, you know it now,” added Chase, bitingly, 

“Sure you can prove what you say?” queried Belding, 
in the same cool, unemotional tone. It struck him 
strangely at the moment what little knowledge this man 
had of the West and of Western character. 

“Prove it? Why, yes, I think so, enough to make 
the truth plain to any reasonable man. I come from 
Peoria—was born and raised there. I went to school 
with Nell Warren. That was your wife’s maiden name. 
She was a beautiful, gay girl. All the fellows were in 
love with her. I knew Bob Burton well. He was a 
splendid fellow, but wild. Nobody ever knew for sure, 
but we all supposed he was engaged to marry Nell. He 
left Peoria, however, and soon after that the truth about 
Nell came out. She ran away. It was at least a couple 
of months oefore Burton showed up in Peoria. He did 
not stay long. Then for years nothing was heard of either 
of them. When word did come Nell was in Oklahoma, 
Burton was in Denver. There’s a chance, of course, that 


DESERT GOLD 


Burton followed Nell and married her. That would 
account for Nell Warren taking the name of Burton. 
But it isn't likely. None of us ever heard of such a thing 
and wouldn't have believed it if we had. The affair 
seemed destined to end unfortunately. But Beiding, 
while I’m at it, I want to say that NeU Warren was one 
of the sweetest, finest, truest girls in the world. If she 
drifted to the Southwest and kept her past a secret that 
was only natural. Certainly it should n ot be held against 
her. Why, she was only a child—a girl—seventeen— 
eighteen years old. ... In a moment of amazement— 
when I recognized your wife as an old schoolmate—I 
blurted the thing out to Radford. You see now how little 
it matters to me when I ask your stepdaughter's hand in 
marriage for my son." 

Beiding stood listening. The genuine emotion in 
Chase's voice was as strong as the ring of truth. Beiding 
knew truth when he heard it. The revelation did not 
surprise him. Beiding did not soften, for he divined that 
Chase's emotion was due to the probing of an old wound, 
the recalling of a past both happy and painful. Still, 
human nature was so strange that perhaps kindness and 
sympathy might yet have a place in this Chase's heart. 
Beiding did not believe so, but he was willing to give 
Chase the benefit of the doubt. 

"So you told my wife you'd respect her secret—keep 
her dishonor from husband and daughter?" demanded 
Beiding, his dark gaze sweeping back from the lane. 

"What! I—I—" stammered Chase. 

"You made your son swear to be a man and die before 
he'd hint the thing to Nell?" went on Beiding, and his 
voice rang louder. 

Ben Chase had no answer. The red left his face. His 
son slunk back against the fence. 

"I say you never held this secret over the heads of my 
wife and her daughter?" thundered Beiding. 

He had his answer in the gray faces, in the lips that fear 
2Q4 


THE WHISTLE OF A HORSE 

made mute. Like a flash Belding saw the whole truth of, 
Mrs. Belding’s agony, the reason for her departure; he 
saw what had been driving Nell; and it seemed that all the 
dogs of hell were loosed within his heart. He struck out 
blindly, instinctively in his pain, and the blow sent Ben 
Chase staggering into the fence comer. Then he stretched 
forth a long arm and whirled Radford Chase back beside 
his father. 

“I see it all now,” went on Belding, hoarsely. 14 You 
found the woman’s weakness—her love for the girl. 
You found the girl’s weakness—her pride and fear of 
shame. So you drove the one and hounded the other. 
God, what a base thing to do! To tell the girl was bad 
enough, but to threaten her with betrayal; there’s no name 
for that!” 

Belding’s voice thickened, and he paused, breathing 
heavily. He stepped back a few paces; and this, an 
ominous action for an. armed man of his kind, instead of 
adding to the fear of the Chases, seemed tc relieve them. 
If there had been any pity in Belding’s heart he would 
have felt it then. 

“And now, gentlemen,” continued Belding, speaking 
low and with difficulty, “seeing I’ve turned down your 
proposition, I suppose you think you’ve no more call to 
keep your mouths shut?” 

The elder Chase appeared fascinated by something he 
either saw or felt in Belding, and his gray face grew grayer. 
He put up a shaking hand. Then Radford Chase, 
livid and snarling, burst out: “I’ll talk till I’m black in 
the face. Ycu can’t stop me!” 

“You’ll go black in the face, but it won’t be from talk* 
ing,” hissed Belding. 

His big arm swept down, and when he threw it up the 
gun glittered in his hand. Simultaneously with the latter 
action pealed out a shrill, penetrating whistle. 

The whistle of a horse! It froze Belding’s arm aloft. 
For an instant he could not move even his eyes. The 

20 295 


DESERT GOLD 


familiarity of that whistle was terrible in its power to 
rob him of strength. Then he heard the rapid, heavy 
pound of hoofs, and again the piercing whistle. 

4t Blanco Diablo /” be cried, huskily. 

He turned to see a huge white horse come thundering 
into the yard. A wild, gaunt, terrible horse; indeed, the 
loved Blanco Diablo. A bronzed, long-haired Indian 
bestrode him. More white horses galloped into the yard, 
pounded to a halt, whistling home. Belding saw a slim 
shadow of a girl who seemed all great black eyes. 

Under the trees flashed Blanco Sol, as dazzling white, as 
beautiful as if he had never been lost in the desert. He 
slid to a halt, then plunged and stamped. His rider 
leaped, throwing the bridle. Belding saw a powerful, 
spare, ragged man, with dark, gaunt face and eyes of flame. 

Then Neil came running from the house, her golden hair 
flying, her hands outstretched, her face wonderful. 

4 ‘Dick! Dick! Qh-h-h, Dick!” she cried. Her voice 
seemed to quiver in Belding’s heart. 

Belding’s eyes began to blur. He was not sure he saw 
dearly. Whose face was this now dose before him—a 
long thin, shrunken face, haggard, tragic in its semblance 
of torture, almost of death? But the eyes were keen and 
kind. Belding thought wildly that they proved he was 
not dreaming. 

“ I shore am glad to see you all/* said a well-remembered 
voice in a slow, cod drawl 


XVIII 


REALITY AGAINST DREAMS 


L ADD, Lash, Thome, Mercedes, they were all helu 
> tight in Belaing’s arms. Then he ran to Blanco 
Diablo. For once the great horse was gentle, quiet, glad. 
He remembered this kindest of masters and reached for 
him with warm, wet muzzle. 

Dick Gale was standing bowed over Nell's slight form, 
almost hidden in his arms. Belding hugged them both. 
He was like a boy. He saw Ben Chase and his son slip 
away under the trees, but the circumstance meant nothing 
to him then. 

“Dick! Dick!” he roared. “Is it you? . . . Say, who 
do you think’s here—here, in Forlorn River?” 

Gale gripped Belding with a hand as rough and hard as 
a file and as strong as a vise. But he did not speak a 
word. Belding thought Gale’s eyes would haunt him 
forever. 

It was then three more persons came upon the scene— 
Elsie Gale, running swiftly, her father assisting Mrs. 
Gale, who appeared about to faint. 

‘ ‘ Belding! Who on earth’s that ? ’ ’ cried Dick, hoarsely. 
l 'Quien sabe , my son,” replied Belding; and now his 
voice seemed a little shaky. “Nell, come here. Give 
him a chance.” 

Belding slipped his arm round Nell, and whispered in 
her ear, “This ’ll be great!” 

Elsie Gale’s face was white and agitated, a face ex¬ 
pressing extreme joy. 

“Oh, brother! Mama saw you—Papa saw you, and 


DESERT GOLD 


never knew you! But I knew you when you jumped 
quick—that way—off your horse. And now I don’t know 
you. You wild man! You giant! You splendid bar¬ 
barian! . . . Mama, Papa, hurry! It is Dick! Look at 
him. Just look at him! Oh-h, thank God!” 

Belding turned a way and drew Nell with him. In anoth¬ 
er second she and Mercedes were clasped in each other’s 
arms. Then followed a time of joyful greetings all round. 

The Yaqui stood leaning against a tree watching the 
welcoming home of the lost. No one seemed to think 
of him, until Belding, ever mindful of the needs of horses, 
put a hand on Blanco Diablo and called to Yaqui to bring 
the others. They led the string of whites down to the 
bam, freed them of wet and dusty saddles and packs, and 
turned them loose in the alfalfa, now breast-high. Diablo 
found his old spirit; Blanco Sol tossed his head and whistled 
his satisfaction; White Woman pranced to and fro; and 
presently they all settled down to quiet grazing. How 
good it was for Belding to see those white shapes against 
the rich background of green! His eyes glistened. It was 
a sight he had never expected to see again. He lingered 
there many moments when he wanted to hurry back to his 
rangers. 

At last he tore himself away from watching Blanco 
Diablo and returned to the house. It was only to find 
that he might have spared himself the hurry. Jim and 
Ladd were lying on the beds that had not held them for 
so many months. Their slumber seemed as deep and quiet 
as death. Curiously Belding gazed down upon them. 
They had removed only boots and chaps. Their clothes 
were in tatters. Jim appeared little more than skin and 
bones, a long shape, dark and hard as iron. Ladd’s ap¬ 
pearance shocked Belding. The ranger looked an old 
man, blasted, shriveled, starved. Yet his gaunt face, 
though terrible in its records of tortures, had something 
fine and noble, even beautiful to Belding, in its strength, 
its victory. 


298 



REALITY AGAINST DREAMS 


Thome and Mercedes had disappeared. The low mur¬ 
mur of voices came from Mrs. Gale’s room, and Bel ding 
concluded that Dick was still with his family. No doubt 
he, also, would soon seek rest and sleep. Belding went 
through the patio and called in at Nell’s door. She was 
there sitting by her window. The flush of happiness had 
not left her face, but she looked stunned, and a shadow- 
of fear lay dark in her eyes. Belding had intended to 
talk. He wanted some one to listen to him. The ex¬ 
pression in Nell's eyes, however, silenced him. He had 
forgotten. Nell read his thought in his face, and then she 
lost all her color and dropped her head. Belding entered, 
stood beside her with a hand on hers. He tried desperate¬ 
ly hard to think of the right thing to .say, and realized so 
long as he tried that he could not speak at all. 

“Nell—Dick's back safe and sound," he said, slowly. 
“That’s the main thing. I wish you could have seen his 
eyes when he held you in his arms out there.... Of course, 
Dick’s coming knocks out your trip East and changes 
plans generally. We haven’t had the happiest time lately. 
But now it '11 all be different. Dick’s as true as a Yaqui. 
He’ll chase that Chase fellow, don’t mistake me. . . . 
Then mother will be home soon. She’ll straighten out 
this—this mystery. And Nell—however it turns out—I 
know Dick Gale will feel just the same as I feel. Brace 
ap now, girl.*' 

Belding left the patio and traced thoughtful steps back 
toward the corrals. He realized the need of his wife. 
If she had been at home he would not have come so close 
to killing two men. Nell would never have fallen so low 
in spirit. Whatever the real tmth of the tragedy of his 
wife’s life, it would not make the slightest difference to 
him. What hurt him was the pain mother and daughter 
had suffered, were suffering still. Somehow he must put 
an end to that pain. 

He found the Yaqui curled up in a comer of the barn 
in as deep a sleep as that of the rangers. Looking down 

20Q 


DESERT GOLD 

at him, Belding felt again the rush of curious thrilling 
eagerness to learn all that had happened since the dark 
night when iTaqui had led the white horses away into the 
desert. Belding curbed his impatience and set to work 
upon tasks he had long neglected. Presently he was 
interrupted by Mr. Gale, who came out, beside himself 
with happiness and excitement. He flung a hundred 
questions at Belding and never gave him time to answer 
one, even if that had been possible. Finally, when Mr. 
Gale lost his breath, Belding got a word in. “See here* 
Mr. Gale, you know as much as I know. Dick’s back! 
They re all back—a hard lot, starved, btuned, tom to 
pieces, worked out to the limit I never saw in desert 
travelers, but they’re alive—alive and well, man! Just 
wait. Just gamble I won’t sleep or eat till I hear that 
story. . But they've got to sleep and eat.” 

Belding gathered with growing amusement that besides 
the joy, excitement, anxiety, impatience expressed by Mr 
Gale there was something else which Belding took for 
pnde. It pleased him. Looking back, he remembered 
some of the things Dick had confessed his father thought 
of him. Belding s sympathy had always been with the 
boy. But he had learned to like the old man, to find him 
xmd and wise, and to think that perhaps college and busi¬ 
ness had not brought out the best in Richard Gale. The 
West had done that, however, as it had for many a wild 
youngster; and Belding resolved to have a little fun at the 
expense of Mr. Gale. So he began by making a few re¬ 
marks that appeared to rob Dick’s father of both speech 
and breath. 

“And don’t mistake me,” concluded Belding, “just 
keep out of earshot when Laddy tells us the story of that 
desert trip, unless you’re hankering to have your hair turn 
pu f e white and stand curled on end and freeze that way.” 

About the middle of the forenoon on the following dav 
the rangers hobbled out of the kitchen to the porch 
300 


REALITY AGAINST DREAMS 


‘‘I’m a sick man, I tell you,” Ladd was complaining, 
**an’ I gotta be fed. Soup! Beef teat That ain’t so 
much as wind to me. I want about a barrel of bread 
an’ butter, an’ a whole platter of mashed potatoes with 
gravy an’ green stuff—all kinds of green stuff—an’ a whole 
big apple pie. Give me everythin’ an’ anythin’ to eat 
but meat. Shore I never, never want to taste meat again, 
an’ sight of a piece of sheep meat would jest about finish 
me. . . . Jim, you used to be a human bein’ that stood up 
for Charlie Ladd.” 

“ Laddy, I’m lined up beside you with both guns,” replied 
Jim, plaintively. “Hungry? Say, the smell of breakfast 
in that kitchen made my mouth water so I near choked to 
death. I reckon we’re gettin’ most onhuman treatment.™ 

“But I’m a sick man,” protested Ladd, “an’ I’m agoin y 
to fall over in a minute if somebody doesn’t feed me 
Nell, you used to be fond of me.” 

“Oh, Laddy, I am yet,” replied Nell. 

“ Shore I don’t believe it. Any girl with a tender heart 
just couldn’t let a man starve under her eyes.... Look at 
Dick, there. I’ll bet he’s had something to eat, mebbe 
potatoes an’ gravy, an’ pie an’—” 

“ Laddy, Dick has had no more than I gave you-—in 
deed, not nearly so much.” 

“Shore he’s had a lot of kisses then, for he hasn’t 
hollered onct about this treatment.” 

“Perhaps'he has,” said Nell, with a blush; '“and if you 
think that—they would help you tp be reasonable f 
might—I’ll—” 

“Well, powerful fond as I am of you, just now kS&ea 'V 
have to run second to bread an’ butter.” 

“Oh, Laddy, what a gallant speech!” laughed Nell. 
“I’m sorry, but I’ve Dad’s orders.” 

“Laddy,” interrupted Belding, “you’ve got to be broke 
in gradually to eating. Now you know that. You’d 
be the severest kind of a boss if you had «ome starved 
beggars on your hands,” 

301 


desert gold 

^ ^ /133 sick I m a yin’,” bowled Ladd. 

” You were never sick in your life, and if ail the bullet 
toles I see m you couldn’t kill you, why, you never will 

'-Can I smoke?" queried Ladd, with sudden animation. 
My Gawd, I used to smoke. Shore I’ve forgot. Nell 
if you want to be reinstated in my gallery of angels, just 
and me a pipe an' tobacco," 

I ve hung onto my pipe,” said Jim, thoughtfully. “ I 
reckon 1 b f d I<; sm Pty m my mouth for seven years or so. 
aramt it, Laddy? A long time! I can see the red lava 
an the red haze, an’ the red twilight creepin' up. It was 
hot aa some lonely. Then the wind, and always that 
awfuj silence' An’ always Yaqui watcliin’ the west, an’ 
Laddy with his checkers, an’ Mercedes burnin’ up, wastin’ 
rid—” t0 n0thin ’ but eyesi Ks a11 there—IH never get 

9 WP tbat “ nd of ta,k >” interrupted Belding, bluntly. 
Tet! us where Yaqui took you—what happened to Roias 
—why you seemed lost for so long.” 

"I reckon Laddy can tell all that best; but when it 
tomes to Rojas s finish I’ll tell what I seen, an' so’ll Dick 

Siat wiS^the—“ iSSed R ° iaS ’ S finish ’ Bar none . 

“I’m a sick man, but I can talk,” put in Ladd, “an £ - 
Jim” 1 d ° a t Want thS whoIe story exa Sgerated none bv 

it *£$ f?fi\ epipC , Ne!1 br0Ught ’ P uffed ecstatically at 
it and settled himself upon the bench for a long talk. 
Nell glanced appealingly at Dick, who tried to seaway 
Mercedes did go, and was Mowed by Thorne. Mr Gate 
rought chairs, and I m subdued excitement called his wife 
find daughter. Belding leaned forward, rendered all the 
more eager by Dick's reluctance to stay, the memory of 
the quick tragic change in the expression of Mercedes’s 
ggftj* by *• strange £ Io °my cast stealLJover 


$02 


REALITY AGAINST DREAMS 


The ranger talked for two hours—talked till his voice 
weakened to a husky whisper,. At the conclusion of his 
story there was an impressive silence. Then Elsie Gale 
stood up* and with her hand on Dick’s shoulder, her eyes 
bright and warm as sunlight, she showed the rangers what 
a woman thought of them and of the Yaqui, Nell clung 
to Dick, weeping silently. Mrs. Gale was overcome, and 
Mr. Gale, very white and quiet, helped her up to her room. 

“The Indian! the Indian!” burst out Belding, his 
voice deep and rolling. “What did I tell you? Didn’t 
I say he’d be a godsend? Remember what I said about 
Yaqui and some gory Aztec knifework? So he cut Rojas 
loose from that awful crater wall, foot by foot, finger by 
finger, slow and terrible? And Rojas didn’t hang long on 
the choya thorns? Thank the Lord for that!. . . Laddv, 
no story of Camino del Diablo can hold a candle to yours. 
The flight and the fight were jobs for men. But living 
through this long hot summer and coming out—that’s a 
miracle. Only the Yaqui could have done it. The 
Yaqui! the Yaqui!” 

“Shore. Charlie Ladd looks up at an Indian these 
days. But Beldin’, as for the cornin’ out, don’t forget 
the hosses. Without grand old Sol an’ Diablo, who I 
don’t hate no more, an* the other Blancos, we’d never have 
got here. Yaqui an' the hosses, that’s my story!” 

Early in the afternoon of the next day Belding encoun* 
tered Dick at the water barrel. 

“Belding, this is river water, and muddy at that,” said 
Dick. “Lord knows I’m not kicking. But I’ve dreamed 
some of our cool running spring, and I want a drink from 
it.” 

“Never again, son. The spring’s gone, faded, sunk, 
dry as dust.” 

“ Dry!” Gale slowly straightened. “ We’ve had rains. 
The river’s full. The spring ought to be overflowing, 
What’s wrong? Why is it dry?” 

3oa 


DESERT GOLD 

„ 1 " Dh & ^ 5ng y ® U ’ r ? kfcwsted, I may as well teU you 
bata big charge of nitroglycerin choked my spring ” 

GaIe C Then he a W 

R^ =!T. J y T d , S , been on home > NeU - my family. 

b .® Same 1 ^ eIt something was wrong here with the 
^ W '* y0U ' Wlth NdL . . . Belding, that ditch them 
k “y- The are dead. The little green in that 
p-ass has come with the rains. What’s happened? The 
ranchs run down. Now I look around I see a change.” 
^ Some change, y es ,” replied Belding, bitterly. “Listen, 

u- B ” efly ’ b “ t u I10t the less forcibly for that, Belding related 
his story of the operations of the Chases. 

Astonishment appeared to be Gale’s first feeling. “Our 
,,, ?5 ou r claims gone, our plans forestalled* Whv 
Belding, it s unbelievable. Forlorn River with promoter 
business, railroad, bank, and what not'” promoters * 

fwf^. fiery and suspicious. “These 

«rS^'T dld the y do aI1 this on the level?” 

Barefaced robbery! Worse than a Greaser holduo * 
replied Belding, grimly. teaser noiaup, 

“ You say the law upheld them?” 

Sure. Why, Ben Chase has a pull as strong as Diablo’s 

on a down grade. Dick, we’re jobbed, outfigmed. W 
tricked, and we can’t do a tliinv ” ? ’ toat - 

fc. I iS g r j ' ; 'I?S for Laddy '' «*“ 
»* ™ «< «* ^ILS-on h, 

Son^ that s mads me think epmo ** ** i n « 

7 ?* keen eyes fast upon ^0^ man^“Inri ¥”* 
tad of wondering how you’d tTe it." *** * 

1 Well, I’ll call on the Chases. Look here. Beld 
304 


REALITY AGAINST DREAMS 

ing, I d better do some forestalling myself. If Laddy 
gets started now there’ll be blood spilled. He’s not just 
right in his mind yet. He talks in his sleep sometimes 
about how Yaqui finished Rojas. If it’s left to him— 
he’ll kill these men. But if I take it up—” 

You re talking sense, Dick. Only here, I’m not so 
sure of you. And there’s more to tell. Son, you’ve 
Nell to think of and your mother.” 

Belding’s ranger gave him a long and searching glance. 
“You can be sure of me,” he said. 

“All right, then; listen,” began Belding. With deep 
voice that had many a break and tremor he told Gale how 
Nell had been hounded by Radford Chase, how her mother 
had been driven by Ben Chase—the whole sad story. 

So tnat’s the trouble! Poor little girl!” murmured 
Gale, brokenly. “I felt something was wrong. Nell 
wasn’t natural, like her old self. And when I begged her 
to marry me soon, while Dad was here, she couldn’t talk. 
She could only cry.” 

“It was hard on Nell,” said Belding, simply. “But 
it ’ll be better now you’re back. Dick, I know the girl. 
She’ll refuse to marry you and you’ll have a hard job to 
break her down, as hard as the one you just rode in off 
of. I think I know you, too, or I wouldn’t be saying—” 
“Belding, what ’re you hinting at?” demanded Gale. 
“Do you dare insinuate that—that—if the thing were 
true it’d make any difference to me?” 

“Aw, dime now, Dick; I couldn’t mean that. I’m 
only awkward at saying things. And I’m cut pretty 
deep—” 

“For God’s sake, you don’t believe what Chase said?” 
queried Gale, in passionate haste. “It’s a lie. I swear 
it’s a lie. I know it’s a lie. And I’ve got to tell Nell 
this minute. Come on in with me. I want you, Belding. 
Oh. why didn't you tell me sooner?” 

Belding felt himself dragged by an iron arm into the 
sitting-room, out into the patio, and across that to where 
305 


DESERT GOLD 


Nell sat in her door. At sight of them she gave a little 
cry, drooped for an instant, then raised a pale, still face, 
with eyes beginning to darken. 

“Dearest, I know now why you are not wearing my 
mother’s ring,” said Gale, steadily and low-voiced. 

“Dick, I am not worthy,” she replied, and held out a 
trembling hand with the ring lying in the palm. 

Swift as light Gale caught her hand and slipped the 
ring back upon the third finger. 

“Nell! Look at me. It is your engagement ring. ... 
Listen. I don’t believe this—this thing that’s been tor¬ 
turing you. I know it’s a lie. I am absolutely sure your 
mother will prove it a lie. She must have suffered once— 
perhaps there was a sad error—but the thing you fear is 
not true. But, hear me, dearest; even if it was true it 
wouldn’t make the slightest difference to me. I’d promise 
you on my honor I’d never think of it again. I’d love you 
all. the more because you’d suffered. I want you all the 
more to be my wife—to let me make you forget—to—” 

She rose swiftly with the passionate abandon of a woman 
stirred to her depths, and she kissed him. 

“Oh, Dick, you’re good—so good! You’ll never 
know—just what those words mean to me. They’ve 
saved me—I think.” 

“ Then, dearest, it’s all right?” Dick questioned, eagerly. 
“You will keep your promise? You will marry me?” 

The glow, the light faded out of her face, and now the 
blue eyes were almost black. She drooped and shook her 
head. 

“Nell!” exclaimed Gale, sharply catching his breath. | 

“Don’t ask me, Dick. I—I won’t marry you.” 

“Why?” 

“You know. It’s true that I—” 

“It’s a lie,” interrupted Gale, fiercely. “But even if 
it’s true—why—why won’t you marry me? Between 
you and me love is the thing. Love, and nothing else? 
Don’t you love me any more?” 

306 


REALITY AGAINST DREAMS 

They had forgotten Belding, who stepped back into the 
shade, 

" 1 love you with my whole heart and soul. I’d die for 
you/' whispered Nell, with clenching hands. “But I 
won’t disgrace you.” 

“Dear, you have worried over this trouble till you're 
morbid. It has grown out of all proportion, I tell you 
that I'll not only be the happiest man on earth, but the 
luckiest, if you marry me.” 

Dick, you give not one thought to your family. Would 
they receive me as your wife?” 

“They surely would,” replied Gale, steadily. 

“No! oh no!” 

“You’re wrong, Nell. I’m glad you said that. You 
give me a chance to prove something. I'll go this minute 
and tell them all. I'll be back here in less than—” 

“Dick, you will not tell her—your mother?” cried Nell, 
with her eyes streaming. “You will not? Oh, I can't 
bear it! She’s so proud! And Dick, I love her. 
Don't tell her! Please, please don't! She’ll be going 
soon. She needn't ever know—about me. X want her 
always to think well of me. Dick, I beg of you. Oh, 
the fear of her knowing has been the worst of all! Please 
don’t go!” 

“Nell, I’m sorry. I hate to hurt you. But you're 
wrong. You can’t see things clearly. This is your 
happiness I'm fighting for. And it’s my life. . . . Wait 
here, dear. I won’t be long.” 

Gale ran across the patio and disappeared. Nell sank 
to the doorstep, and as she met the question in Belding's 
eyes she shook her head mournfully. They waited with¬ 
out speaking. It seemed a long while before Gale re¬ 
turned. Belding thrilled at sight of him. There was 
more boy about him than Belding had ever seen. Dick 
was coming swiftiy, flushed, glowing, eager, erect, almost 
smiling. 

“ I told them. I swore it was a lie, but I wanted them 
3°7 


DESERT GOLD 


to decide as if it were true. I didn't have to waste a 
minute on Elsie. She loves you, NelL The Governor 
is crazy about you, I didn't have to waste two minutes 
on him. Mother used up the time. She wanted to 
know all there was to tell She is proud, yes; but, Nell, 
I wish you could have seen how she took the—the story 
about you. Why, she never thought of me at all, until 
she had cried over you. Nell, she loves you, too. They 
all love you. Oh, it's so good to tell you. I think 
mother realizes the part you have had in the—what shall 
I call it?—the regeneration of Richard Gale, Doesn't 
that sound fine? Darling, mother not only consents, 
she wants you to be my wife. Do you hear that? And 
listen—she had me in a comer and, of course, being my 
mother, she put on the screws. She made me promise 
that we'd live in the East half the year. That means 
Chicago, Cape May, New York—you see, I'm not exactly 
the lost son any more. Why ? Nell, dear, you'll have to 
learn who Dick Gale really is. But 1 always want to be 
the ranger you helped me become, and ride Bianco Sol, 
and see a little of the desert. Don't let the idea of big 
cities frighten you. We'll always love the open places 
best. Now, Nell, say you’ll forget this trouble. I know 
it '11 come all right. Say you’ll marry me soon. . . . Why, 
dearest, you're crying . . . Nell!" 

“My heart—is broken," sobbed Nell, “for—I—I can't 
marry you." 

The boyish brightness faded out of Gale's face. Here, 
Belding saw, was the stem reality arrayed against his 
dreams. 

“That devil Radford Chase—he'll tell my secret," 
panted Neil. “ He swore if you ever came back and mar¬ 
ried me he’d follow us all over the world to tell it." 

Belding saw Gale grow deathly white and suddenly 
stand stock-still. 

M Chase threatened you, then?" asked Dick; and the 
forced naturalness of his voice struck Belding. 

308 


REALITY AGAINST DREAMS 

Threatened me? He made my life a nightmare/’ 
replied Nell, in a rush of speech. “At first I wondered 
how he was worrying mother sick. But she wouldn’t 
toll me. Then when she went away he began to hint 
things. I hated him all the more. But when he told 
me—I was frightened, shamed. Still I did not weaken. 
He was pretty decent when he was sober. But when he 
was half drunk he was a devil. He laughed at me and 
my pride. I didn’t dare shut the door in his face. After 
a while he found out that your mother loved me and that 
I loved her. Then he began to threaten me. If I didn’t 
give in to him he’d see she learned the truth. That made 
me weaken. It nearly killed me. I simply could not 
bear the thought of Mrs. Gale knowing. But I couldn’t 
marry him. Besides, he got so half the time, when he was 
drunk, he didn’t want or ask me to be his wife. I was 
about ready to give up and go mad when you—you came 
home.” 

She ended in a whisper, looking up wistfully and sadly 
at him. Belding was a raging fire within, cold without. 
He watched Gale, and believed he could foretell that 
young man’s future conduct. Gale gathered Nell up 
into his arms and held her to his breast for a long moment. 

“Dear Nell, I’m sure the worst of your trouble is over,” 
he said, gently. “I will not give you up. Now, won't 
you lie down, try to rest and calm yourself. Don’t grieve 
any more. This thing isn’t so bad as you make it. Trust 
me. I’ll shut Mr. Radford Chase’s mouth.” 

As he released her she glanced quickly up at him, then 
lifted appealing hands. 

“Dick, you won’t hunt for him—go after him?” 

Gale laughed, and the laugh made Belding jump. 

“ Dick, I beg of you. Please don’t make trouble. The 
Chases have been hard enough on us. They are rich, 
powerful. Dick, say you will not make matters worse. 
Please promise me you’ll not go to him.” 

“You ask me that?” he demanded. 

309 


DESERT GOLD 


“Yes. Oh yes!” 

“But you know it’s useless. What kind of a man do 
you want me to be?” 

“It’s only that I’m afraid. Oh, Dick, he’d shoot you 
in the back.” 

“No, Nell, a man of his kind wouldn’t have nerve 
enough even for that.” 

“You’ll go?” she cried, wildly. 

Gale smiled, and the smile made Belding cold. 

“Dick, I cannot keep you back?” 

“No,” he said. 

Then the woman in her burst through instinctive fear, 
and with her eyes blazing black in her white face she 
lifted parted quivering lips and kissed him. 

Gale left the patio, and Belding followed closely at his 
heels. They went through the sitting-room. Outside 
upon the porch sat the rangers, Mr. Gale, and Thome. 
Dick went into his room without speaking. 

“Shore somethin’s cornin’ off,” said Ladd, sharply; 
and he sat up with his keen eyes narrowing. 

Belding spoke a ‘few words; and, remembering an im¬ 
pression he had wished to make upon Mr. Gale, he' made 
them strong. But now it was with a grim humor that he 
spoke. 

“Better stop that boy,” he concluded, looking at Mr. 
Gale. “Hell do some mischief. He’s wilder’n hell.” 

“Stop him? Why, assuredly,” replied Mr. Gale, rising 
with nervous haste. 

Just then Dick came out of his door. Belding eyed him 
keenly. The only change he could see was that Dick had 
put on a hat and a pair of heavy gloves. 

“Richard, where are you going?” asked his father. 

“I’m going over here to see a man.” 

“No. It is my wish that you remain. I forbid you to 
go,’ said Mr. Gale, with a hand on his son’s shoulder. 

Dick put Mr. Gale aside gently, respectfully, yet 
forcibly. The old man gasped. 

3 j o 


REALITY AGAINST DREAMS 


“ Dad, I haven’t gotten over my bad habit of disobey¬ 
ing you. I’m sorry. Don’t interfere with me now. And 
don’t follow me. You might see something unpleasant. 0 

“But my son! What are you going to do?” 

“I’m going to beat a dog.” 

Mr. Gale looked helplessly from this strangely calm and 
cold son to the restless Beiding. Then Dick strode off 
the porch. 

“Hold on!” Ladd’s voice would have stopped almost 
any man. “Dick, you wasn’t agoin’ without me?” 

“Yes, I was. But I’m thoughtless just now, Laddy.” 

“Shore you was. Wait a minute, Dick. I’m a sick 
man, but at that nobody can pull any stunts round here 
without me.” 

He hobbled along the porch and went into his room. 
Jim Lash knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and, hum¬ 
ming his dance time, he followed Ladd. In a moment the 
rangers appeared, and both were packing guns. 

Not a little of Belding’s grim excitement came from 
observation of Mr. Gale. At sight of the rangers with their 
guns the old man turned white and began to tremble. 

“Better stay behind,” whispered Beiding. “Dick’s 
going to beat that two-legged dog, and the rangers get 
excited wdien they’re packing guns.” 

“I will not stay behind,” replied Mr. Gale, stoutly. 
“ I’ll see this affair through. Beiding, I’ve guessed it. 
Richard is going to fight the Chases, those robbers who 
have ruined you.” 

“Well, I can’t guarantee any fight on their side,” re¬ 
turned Beiding, dryly. “But maybe there’ll be Greasers 
with a gun or two.” 

Beiding stalked off to catch up with Dick, and Mr. 
Gale came trudging behind with Thome. 

“Where will we find these Chases?” asked Dick of 
Beiding. 

“They’ve got a place down the road adjoining the inn. 
They call it their club. At this hour Radford will be there 
?.\ 3 ix 


DESERT GOLD 


sure. I don’t know about the old man. Btrt his office 
is now just across the way.” 

They passed several houses, turned a comer into the 
main street, and stopped at a wide, low adobe structure. 
A number of saddled horses stood haltered to posts. 
Mexicans lolled around the wide doorway. 

“There’s Ben Chase now over on the comer,” said 
Belding to Dick. “See, the tall man with the white hair, 
and leather band on his hat. He sees us. He knows 
there’s something up. He’s got men with him. They’ll 
come over. We’re after the young buck, and sure he’ll 
be in here.” 

They entered. The place was a hail, and needed only 
a bar to make it a saloon. There were two rickety pool 
tables. Evidently Chase had fitted up this amusement 
room for his laborers as well as for the use of his engineers 
and assistants, for the crowd contained both Mexicans 
and Americans. A large table near a window was sur¬ 
rounded by a noisy, smoking, drinking circle of card- 
players. 

“ Point out this Radford Chase to me,” said Gale. 

“There! The big fellow with the red face. His eyes 
stick out a little. See! He’s dropped his cards and his 
face isn’t red any more.” 

Dick strode across the room. 

Belding grasped Mr. Gale and whispered hoarsely: 
“ Don’t miss anything. It ’ll be great. Watch Dick and 
watch Laddy! If there’s any gun play, dodge behind 
me.” 

Belding smiled with a grim pleasure as he saw Mr. 
Gale’s face turn white. 

Dick halted beside the table. His heavy boot shot up, 
and with a crash the table split, and glasses, cards, chips 
flew everywhere. As they rattled down and the chairs 
of the dumfounded players began to slide Dick called 
out: “My name is Gale. I’m looking for Mr. Radford 
Chase.” 


REALITY AGAINST DREAMS 


A tall, heavy-shouldered fellow rose, boldly enough, 
even swaggeringly, and glowered at Gale. 

“I’m Radford Chase,” he said. His voice betrayed the 
boldness of his action. 

It was over in a few moments. The tables and chairs 
were tumbled into a heap; one of the pool tables had been 
shoved aside; a lamp lay shattered, with oil running dark 
upon the floor. Ladd leaned against a post with a smok¬ 
ing gun in his hand. A Mexican crouched close to the 
wall moaning over a broken arm. In the far comer up¬ 
held by comrades another wounded Mexican cried out in 
pain. These two had attempted to draw weapons upon 
Gale, and Ladd had crippled them. 

In the center of the room lay Radford Chase, a limp, 
tom, hulking, bloody figure. He was not seriously in¬ 
jured. But he was helpless, a miserable beaten wretch, 
who knew his condition and felt the eyes upon him. 
He sobbed and moaned and howled. But no one offered 
to help him to his feet. 

Backed against the door of the hall stood Ben Chase, 
for once stripped of all authority and confidence and 
courage. Gale confronted him, and now Gale’s mien 
was in striking contrast to the coolness with which he had 
entered the place. Though sweat dripped from his face, 
it was as white as chalk. Like dark flames his eyei 
seemed to leap and dance and bum. His lean jaw hung 
down and quivered with passion. He shook a huge 
gloved fist in Chase’s face. 

“Your gray hairs save you this time. But keep out 
of my way! And when that son of yours comes to, 
tell him every time I meet him I’ll add some more to what 
he got to-day!” 


XIX 


THE SECRET OF FORLORN RIVER 


IN the^arly morning Gale, seeking solitude where he 
1 could brood over his trouble, wandered alone. It was 
not easy for him to elude the Yaqui, and just at the 
moment when he had cast himself down in a secluded 
shady corner the Indian appeared, noiseless, shadowy, 
mysterious as always. J 

Mahy he said, in his deep voice. 

“Yes Yaqui, it’s bad—very bad,” replied Gale. 

The Indian had been told of the losses sustained by 
Belding and his rangers. 

, \ sai 4 Ya( l ui > with an impressive gesture 

toward the lofty lilac-colored steps of No Name Moun¬ 
tains. 

He seemed the same as usual, but a glance on Gale’s 
part, a moment’s attention, made him conscious of the 
old strange force in the Yaqui. 

“Why does my brother want me to climb the nameless 
mountains with him?” asked Gale. 

7 aqui ’ and he made motions 
that Gale found difficult of interpretation. 

“Shower of Gold,” translated Gale. That was the 
* aqui s name for Nell. What did he mean by using it in 
connection with a climb into the mountains? Were his 
motions intended to convey an idea of a shower of golden 
Wossoms from that rare and beautiful tree, or a golden 
ram. Gale s listlessness vanished in a flash of thought. 

5f. Ya r “f ant r gold ' Gold! He meant he could 
retrieve the fallen fortunes of the white brother who had 
314 


SECRET OF FORLORN RIVER 

saved his life that evil day at the Papago Well. Gale 
thrilled as he gazed piercingly into the wonderful eyes of 
this Indian. Would Yaqui never consider his debt 
paid? 

“Go—me?” repeated the Indian, pointing with the 
singular directness that always made this action remark* 
able in him. 

“Yes, Yaqui.” 

Gale ran to his room, put on hobnailed boots, filled a 
canteen, and hurried back to the corral. Yaqui awaited 
him. The Indian carried a coiled lasso and a short stout 
stick. Without a word he led the way down the lane, 
turned up the river toward the mountains. None of 
Belding’s household saw their departure. 

What had once been only a narrow mesquite-bordered 
trail was now a well-trodden road. A deep irrigation 
ditch, full of flowing muddy water, ran parallel with the 
road. Gale had been curious about the operations of the 
Chases, but a bitterness he could not help had kept him 
from going out to see the work. He was not surprised 
to find that the engineers who had constructed the ditches 
and dam had anticipated him in every particular. The 
dammed-up gulch made a magnificent reservoir, and Gale 
could not look upon the long narrow lake without a feeling 
of gladness. The dreaded ano seco of the Mexicans might 
come again and would come, but never to the inhabitants 
of Forlorn River. That stone-walled, stone-floored gulch 
would never leak, and already it contained water enough 
to irrigate the whole of Altar Valley for two dry seasons. 

Yaqui led swiftly along the lake to the upper end, where 
the stream roared down over unscalable walls. This 
ooint was the farthest Gale had ever penetrated into the 
rough foothills, and he had Belding’s word for it that no 
white man had ever climbed No Name Mountains from 
the west. 

But a white man was not an Indian. The former might 
have stolen the range and valley and mountain, even the 
3 iK 


DESERT GOLD 


desert, but his possessions would ever remain mysteries. 
Gale had scarcely faced the great gray ponderous wall of 
cliff before the old strange interest in the Yaqui seized 
him again. It recalled the tie that existed between them, 
a tie almost as close as blood. Then he was eager and 
curious to see how the Indian would conquer those 
seemingly insurmountable steps of stone. 

Yaqui left the gulch and clambered up over a jumble of 
weathered slides and traced a slow course along the base 
of the giant wall. He looked up and seemed to select 
a point for ascent. It w*as the last place in that mountain¬ 
side where Gale would have thought climbing possible. 
Before him the wall rose, leaning over him, shutting out 
the light, a dark mighty mountain mass. Innumerable 
cracks and crevices and caves roughened the bulging sides 
of dark rock. 

Yaqui tied one end of his lasso to the short, stout stick 
and, carefully disentangling the coils, he whirled the stick 
round and round and threw it almost over the first rim 
of the shelf, perhaps thirty feet up. The stick did not 
lodge. Yaqui tried again. This time it caught in a 
crack. He pulled hard. Then, holding to the lasso, he 
walked up the steep slant, hand over hand on the rope. 
When he reached the shelf he montioned for Gale to follow^. 
Gale found that method of scaling a wall both quick and 
easy. Yaqui pulled up the lasso, and threw the stick 
aloft into another crack. He climbed to another shelf, 
and Gale followed him. The third effort brought them to 
a more rugged bench a hundred feet above the slides. 
The Yaqui worked round to the left, and turned into a 
dark fissure. Gale kept close at his heels. They came 
out presently into lighter space, yet one that restricted 
any extended view. Broken sections of cliff were on all 
sides. 

Here the ascent became toil. Gale could distance 
Yaqui going downhill, on the climb, however, he was hard 
put to it to keep the Indian in sight. It w^as not a ques- 


SECRET OF FORLORN RIVER 


tion of strength or lightness of foot. These Gale had 
beyond the share of most men. It was a matter of lung 
power, and the Yaqui’s life had been spent scaling the 
desert heights. Moreover, the climbing was infinitely 
slow, tedious, dangerous. On the way up several times 
Gale imagined he heard a dull roar of falling water. The 
sound seemed to be under him, over him, to this side and 
to that. When he was certain he could locate the direc¬ 
tion from which it came then he heard it no more until he 
had gone on. Gradually he forgot it in the physical sensa¬ 
tions of the climb. He burned his hands and knees. He 
grew hot and wet and winded. His heart thumped so 
that it hurt, and there were instants when his sight was 
blurred. When at last he had toiled to where the Yaqui 
sat awaiting him upon the rim of that great wall, it was 
none too soon. 

Gale lay back and rested for a while without note of 
anything except the blue sky. Then he sat up. He was 
amazed to find that after that wonderful climb he was only 
a. thousand feet or so above the valley. Judged by the 
nature of his effort, he would have said he had climbed, a 
mile. The village lay beneath him, with its new adobe 
structures and tents and buildings in bright contrast 
with the older habitations. He saw the green alfalfa 
fields, and Belding’s white horses, looking very small and 
motionless. He pleased himself by imagining he could 
pick out Blanco Sol. Then his gaze swept on to the 
river. 

Indeed, he realized now why some one had named it 
Forlorn River. Even at this season when it was full of 
water it had a forlorn aspect. It was doomed to fail out 
there on the desert—doomed never to mingle with the 
waters of the Gulf. It wound away down the valley, 
growing wider and shallower, encroaching more and more 
on the°gray flats, until it disappeared on its sad journey 
toward Sonoyta. That vast shimmering, sun-governed 
waste recognized its life only at this flood season, and wair 
3*7 


D GOLD 


already with parched tongue and insatiate fire licking and 
burning up its futile waters. 

Yaqui put a hand on Gale’s knee. It was a bronzed 
scarred, powerful hand, always eloquent of meaning’ 
The Indian was listening. His bent head, his strange 
dilating eyes, his rigid form, and that close-pressing hand 
now these brought back to Gale the terrible lonely night 
hours on the lava! J 6 


“ What do you hear, Yaqui ?” asked Gale. He laughed 
a iiutle at the mood that had come over him. But the 
sound of his voice did not break the spell. He did not 
want to speak again. He yielded to Yaqui’s subtle name¬ 
less influence. He listened himself, heard nothing but the 
scream of an eagle. Often he wondered if the Indian could 
hear things that made no sound. Yaqui was beyond un- 

, .itever the Indian had listened to or for, presently 
-e satisfied himself, and, with a grunt that might mean 
anything, he rose and turned away from the rim. Gale 
to..owed, rested now and eager to go on. He saw that 
the great cliff they had climbed was only a stairway up to 
the huge looming dark bulk of the plateau above. 

Suddenly he again heard the dull roar of falling water. 
It seemed to have cleared itself of muffled vibrations. 
i aqui^mounted a little ndge and halted. The next in- 
stant '-'ale stood above a bottomless cleft into which a 
white stream leaped. His astounded gaze swept back¬ 
ward along this narrow swift stream to its end in a dark 

wdf d the 0ll T P °°5' Tt r WaS a hug ° Springl a bubbling 
well, the outcropping of an underground river coming 
down from the vast plateau above. g 

Yaqui had brought Gale to the source of Forlorn River, 
tv. | as ^ n 2 thou ghts m Gale’s mind were no swifter than 
the thrills that ran over him. He would stake out a claim 
here and never be cheated out of it. Ditches on the 
benches and troughs on the steep walls would carry water 
down to the valley. Ben Cha^ had built a great dam 
318 


SECRET OF FORLORN RIVER 

which would be useless if Gale chose to turn Forlorn Rivet 
from its natural course. The fountain head of that mys- 
terious desert river belonged to him. 

His eagerness, his mounting passion, was checked by 
Yaqui’s unusual actions. The Indian showed wonder 
hesitation, even reluctance. His strange eyes surveyed 
this boiling well as if they could not believe the sight they 
saw Gale divined instantly that Yaqui had never before 
seen the source of Forlorn River. If he had ever ascended 
to this plateau, probably it had been to some other part, 
for the water was new to him. He stood gazing aloft at 
peaks, at lower ramparts of the mountain, and at nearer 
landmarks of prominence. Yaqui seemed at fault. He 
was not sure of his location.^ « . , A 

Then he strode past the swirling pool of dark water and 
began to ascend a little slope that led up to a shelving 
cliff. Another object halted the Indian. It ^ was a pile 
of stones, weathered, crumbled, fallen into ruin, but still 
retaining shape enough to prove it had been built there 
by the hands of men. Round and round this the \aqm 
stalked and his curiosity attested a further uncertainty. 
It was as if he had come upon something surprising. 
Gale wondered about the pile of stones. Had it once 
been a prospector’s claim? 

“Ugh 1 ” grunted the Indian; and, though his exclama¬ 
tion expressed no satisfaction, it surely put an end to doubt. 
He pointed up to the roof of the sloping yellow, shelf of 
stone. Faintly outlined there in red were the imprints 
of many human hands with fingers spread wide. Gate 
had often seen such paintings on the walls of the desert 
caverns. Manifestly these told Yaqui he had come to 
the spot for which he had aimed. 

Then his actions became swift—and Yaqui seldom mov 
swiftly. The fact impressed Gale. The Indian searched 
the level floor under the shelf He gathered up handM 
of small black stones, and he thrust them at Gale. "1 1 
weight made Gale start, and then he trembled. The In 
3*9 


desert gold 

. was to pick up a piece of weathered 
* 0v 7 throw it against the wall. It broke 
snatcaed up parts, and showed the broken edges’ to Gale 

2ZT * trS streaks ’ diJ1 gIinte -£££ 

^ing under him; and he sat down 
t ymg to take all the bits of stone into his Ian Hi< 
fingeis were all thumbs as with knife blade he due into -he 
black pieces of rock. He found ^i/ tI ? ‘ “ he 

doivn the slope, down into the valley wiih ils riveJ win^f 

S S V Here mt ° the v 686 ^ But he did not any 
ot Out. Here was reahty as sweet, as wondeHul Z 

^SlTVr' Y “»i led him u " 

doMmUm^Cheim^TeS? t “ 5” 

would be rich. They would oneandahh.h l they 

He had discovered the source oL" 

non ,n water. Yaqui had made him rkhTn eold r 'f 

3SS3S2K? Sl ° Pe ’ d0W “ ^ valleyS 

a prospector’s claim. But it was oM.vSlold ThS 
had never been worked. The slope was wild * rt 1 ug * 

assr st'tr™ 

easing, with the cold passing S “ th the 61-6 

The Yaqui uttered the low, strange, involuntary cry * 

320 * * 


SECRET OF FORLORN RIVER 

rare with him, a cry somehow always associated with death. 
Gale shuddered. 

The Indian was digging in the sand and dust under the 
shelving wall. He threw out an object that rang against 
the stone. It was a belt buckle. He threw out old 
shrunken, withered boots. He came upon other things, 
and then he ceased to dig. 

The grave of desert prospectors! Gale had seen more 
than one. Ladd had told him many a story of such 
gruesome finds. It was grim, hard fact. 

Then the keen-eyed Yaqui reached up to a little 
projecting shelf of rock and took from it a small ob¬ 
ject. He showed no curiosity and gave the thing to 
Gale. 

How 7 - strangely Gale felt when he received into his hands 
a flat oblong box! Was it only the influence of the Yaqui, 
or was there a nameless and unseen presence beside that 
grave ? Gale could not be sure. But he knew he had gone 
back to the old desert mood. He knew something hung 
in the balance. No accident, no luck, no debt-paying 
Indian could account wholly for that moment. Gale 
knew he held in his hands more than gold. 

The box was a tin one, and not at all rusty. Gale plied 
open the reluctant lid. A faint old musty odor penetrated, 
his nostrils. Inside the box lay a packet w T rapped in what 
once might have been oilskin. He took it out and re¬ 
moved this covering. A folded paper remained in his 
hands. 

It was growing yellow with age. But he descried a 
dim tracery of words. A crabbed scrawl, written in 
blood, hard to read! He held it more to the light, and 
slowly he deciphered its content. 

“ We, Robert Burton and Jonas Warren, 
give half of this gold claim to the man who 
finds it and half to Nell Burton , daughter 
and granddaughter 

3 ?* 


DESERT GOLD 

Gasping, with a bursting heart, overwhelmed by an 
unutterable joy of divination, Gale fumbled with the 
paper until he got it open. 

It was a certificate twenty-one years old, and recorded 
the marriage of Robert Burton and Nellie Warren. 


XX 


DESERT GOLD 

A SUMMER day dawned on Forlorn River, a beau¬ 
tiful, still, hot, golden day with huge sail clouds of 
white motionless over No Name Peaks and the purple of 
clear air in the distance along the desert horizon. 

Mrs. Belding returned that day to find her daughter 
happy and the past buried forever in two lonely graves. 
The haunting shadow left her eyes. Gale believed he 
would never forget the sweetness, the wonder, the passion 
of her embrace when she called him her boy and gave him 
• her blessing. 

The little wrinkled padre who married Gale and Nell 
performed the ceremony as he told his beads, without 
interest or penetration, and went his way, leaving hap¬ 
piness behind. 

“Shore I was a sick man,” Ladd said, “an' dam. near a 
dead one, but I’m agoin’ to get well. . Mebbe I’ll be able 
to ride again some day. Nell, I lay it to you. An’ I’m 
agoin’ to kiss you an’ wish you all the joy there is in tliis 
world. An’, Dick, as Yaqui says, she’s shore your Shower 
of Gold.” 

He spoke of Gale’s finding love—spoke of it with the deep 
and wistful feeling of the lonely ranger who had always 
yearned for love and had never known it. Belding, once 
more practical, and important as never before with mining 
projects and water claims to manage, spoke of Gale’s great 
good fortune in the finding of gold—he called it desert 
gold. 

“ Ah, yes. Desert Gold!" exclaimed Dick’s father, softly, 
3 2 3 


desert gold 

^ h ?r S , ofpride - Perhaps he was glad Dick had found 

the ™fu^ arr V Ur n y hG Was lla PPy that Dick had won 
the gid he loved. But it seemed to Dick himself that his 
father meant something very different from love and for- 
tune in Ms allusion to desert gold. 

nofte wSyptfecf 7 ^ ^ ^ ^ COuld 

t0 u D ' Ck t0 , Say g0 ° d ' b y- Dick was startled, 

natum^TllT lmp ^ siwness for got for a moment the 
nature of the Indian. \ aqui was not to be changed, 

Belding tiled to overload him with gifts. The Indian 
yacked a bag of food, a blanket, a gun, a knife, a canteen 
to thTS; household went out with him 

rhnif ^ k nd nelds from which fielding bade him 
gScV it, h T e ~ any b ° rSe ' even the i° ve< l Blanco Diablo 
^ ^ at for fear might 

S ° 1,a ? d GaIe hated himself for a selfish- 
, . *“ n°nid . not; hdp- But -without a word he would 

have parted with the treasured Sol 

Yaqui whistled the horses up-for the last time Did 

jrafPtssE 

„ ’, an , now he was going home. P y 

She held outTthose s^ng s£nS - 


DESERT GOLD 


did not touch them. Turning away, he moaoted the 
broncho and rode down the trail toward the river. 

“He’s going home,” said Belding. 

“Home!” whispered Ladd; and Dick knew the ranger 
had felt the resurging tide of memory. Home—across 
the cactus and lava, through solemn lonely days, the 
silent, lonely nights, into the vast and red-hazed world 
of desolation. 

“Thome, Mercedes, Nell, let’s climb the foothill yonder 
and watch him out of sight,” said Dick. 

They climbed while the others returned to the house. 
When they reached the summit of the hill Yaqui was 
riding up the far bank of the river. 

“He will turn to look — to wave good-by?” asked 
NeU. 

“Dear he is an Indian,” replied Gale. 

From that height they watched him ride through the 
mesquites, up over the river bank to enter the cactus. 
His mount showed dark against the green and white, and 
for a long time he was plainly in sight. The sun hung red 
in a golden sky. The last the watchers saw of Yaqui was 
when he rode across a ridge and stood silhouetted against 
the gold of desert sky—a wild, lonely, beautiful picture. 
Then he was gone. 

Strangely it came to Gale then that he was glad, i aqui 
had returned to his own—the great spaces, the desolation, 
the solitude—to the trails he had trodden when a child, 
trails haunted now by ghosts of his people, and ever by his 
gods. Gale realized that in the Yaqui he had known the 
spirit of the desert, that this spirit had claimed ah which 
was wild and primitive in him. 

Tears glistened in Mercedes’s magnificent black eyes, 
and Thome kissed them away— kissed the fire back to 
them and the flame to her cheeks. 

That action recalled Gale’s earlier mood, die joy of 
the present, and he turned to Nell’s sweet face. ^ fine 
desert was there, wonderful, constructive, eanoofing, 

325 


desert gold 

beautiful, terrible, but it was not for him as it was for 
2^ 111 th . e of Nell’s tremulous returning smn 
feeveSd'hlT’ shadow faded > lost ii hold 


ZAN E GREY’S~NOVELS 

sou. -unirs£snf^i^= 

£H E LIGHT OP^ WESTERN S TARS ~ -- 

Ve. N Her Y Kil^SSiSendS? re^u^ff^he^sh 68 ’ th * CCnte A of frQntIer w 

surprising climax brings the story to a delightful close^ 1S captured by bandits. A 

the rainbow trail 

uplands-umiUt a iast°love and?akh avTake beCOmes * wanderer in the great western 

DESERT GOLD 

of T the gold w^fdi^fwo h pro^^tor^ r hacFwiUe^ t^he^T’ ? nd - en ?| s ^ the filing 

riders of the purple sage " whoiathestory,sh ,7 nc l 

rHE _LASr OF THE PLAINSMEN 

th^Amerira^bUon 1 ? ^wJS^hV aJIzJm d Uffkaovvn as the 

wonderful country of deep canons and Sant pint" ° desert and of a bunt in ‘that 

THE HERITAGE OF THE PFSFR T 

Englander.^Thr^Mcrmcm Tel^Sn d h™° ne Mormons, learns to love a young New 
the second wife of one of the Mormons -Wdl,’ th|?“hl pSblSf 0 fth- sha11 become 
THE SHORT STOP s me probIem of this great Story. 

a professional iSlftfiJS °H« hardSfockSat thestortarSf"?/ 1 f *T) and f ? rtune as 
as clean sportsmanship, courage andhonesty^ought to f ° lloWed by such SUCCC3s 

BETTY ZANE 

old CoIonthZane! one of the^rTves^pfoneers! ° f Betty ’ the beautiful young sister of 


— ...w o.avwi +Jiuuce 

THE LONE STAR RANGER 



Texas 

mSSS-“ S == SSS - 

Kells, the leader—and nurses him to health a train h !^ 16 begins when she shoots 
when Joan, disguised as an outlaw, observes jfmhi the ^° ther . ro,nance T 

THE LAST OF THE GREAT SCOOTS - 


,„ B y He,en Cody Wetmore and Zane Grey 

Grosset & Du nla p, Publi shers, New York 






























































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Mff^75^var4fcc?5»#r*«wrn 


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B. Ivl Bf 



i««v be ft 'il v«biirever boohs m soil Ask for Gres^st and Crnhy'a l.'st 


CHIP OF THE FLYING U. Wherein the 1 ove affairs of Chi : , ard 
Della Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. 

THE H APPY FAMILY. A lively and amusing story, dealing with 
the adventures of eighteen jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. 

HER PRA IR IE KNIGHT. Describing a gay party of Easterners 
who exchange a cottage at Newport for a Montana ranch-house. 

THE RANG E DWELLERS. Spirited action, a range feud be- 
two families, and a Romeo and Juliet courtship make this a bright, 
jolly story. 

THE LURE O F THE DIM TRAILS. A vivid portrayal of the 
experience of an Eastern author among the cowboys. 

TH E_ LO N ESOME TRAIL. A little branch of sage brush and the 
recollection of a pair ox large brown eves upset '‘Weary' 7 David¬ 
son’s plans. — 

THE T ONG SHADOW . A vigorous Western story, spaikling with 
the free o' tdoor life of a mountain ranch. It is a fine love stone 

GOOD INDIAN . A stirring romance of life on an Idaho ranch. 

FLY ING U RANCH . Another delightful story about Chip and 
his pais. 

THE FLY ING ITS LAST STAND. An amusing account of Chip 
and the other boys opposing a party of school teachers. 

T HE UPHI LL CLIMB. A story of a mountain ranch and of a 
mauTiiard light on the uphill road to manliness. 

THF PHANTOM HERD. The title of a moving-picture staged in 
New Mexico by the "Flying U ’’ boys. 

THE HERITAGE OF T HE SIOUX. The "Flying U’* beys stage 
? fake bank robbery for fii.n purposes which precedes a real one 
for lust of gold. 

THE GRINGOS. A story of love and adventure on a ranch in 
California. 

STARR OF THE D ESER T. A New Mexico ranch stcry of mys 
tery and adventure. ^ 

THE LOOK OUT MAN. A Northern California story full of acti> n, 
excitement and love. 


Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York 


































































































